Saturday morning July 19, 2008 1 am. Open letter to my daughter Dear Ariel: It's your sixteenth birthday. Can you hear the singing in the background? "This girl is a woman now, she's found out what it's all about, and she's yearning to live." Don't quite know what to give you for your birthday. Perhaps some words of wisdom. An old poem that I wrote some twenty years ago. Four pages of the original 108, rewritten and complete. The Phoenix Chronicle by j.b. To she who suffered as I came to life And she that is the joy of my heart, When the tumult ends, we will dance in silence. I begin again Over and over again Always new beginnings My Odyssey Fear not the flames I am the Phoenix


What was it I wanted to say here? What was it I wanted to do that has driven me to this abyss? To see myself for who I really am To touch the place where my heart resides The forces of fear have gathered What can I do to stem the tide? The cleverness of my speech is gone, Standing naked to the wind, I am not cold. A fire grows in my belly, a hunger, a thirst I searched the bull, lo these many years Still no glimpse of eternity. I sit me down. Having tried to apprehend the truth of existence Was I successful? It is not for me to judge. I have just taken the first step of my journey It is said Satori, enlightenment comes in a flash I have sat a lifetime, still the door is closed I go to knock. I will speak for no faiths No ism, no cause, save one The celebration, the sustenance And the surrender of life. It is the last of my hope Which I throw away Now I am free. I take no side in matters of violence I sit poised watching the majesty of life unfold itself to me And although I know it is with pain I will write of this, in bitter tears I am sure, in my heart, the joyful sorrow of life has embraced me I speak a word that for many years caught in my throat I love Now I must forget this too It is too much this hope Too sublime, too clinging To late for tears, too soon We are the dust.