Defeat | Khalil Gibran Poem

Here's a wonderful poem by the great Kahlil Gibran. Author of The Prophet. Hope you enjoy.

Gibran Khalil Gibran (January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931) , usually referred to in English as Kahlil Gibran, was a Lebanese-American writer, poet and visual artist, also considered a philosopher although he himself rejected the title.

Reviews

Poignant and such a blessing! Thank U! www.gratefulness.org & www.compassioncourse.org, ahimsa

I stepped forwarded, a feeling rose, I paused.

What was I feeling? Fear? I see I am scared. How can I share this emotion? With whom?

I have an "image" to maintain. I'm invincible, I never tremble, I'm the foundation, the rock, I carry the heavy loads.

If I quiver, start to lean, this time when I fall...will I get back up...again?

Processing and churning these emotions, I know I have been on this path before. There's the stone of disappointment, the weeds of anger, a root of shame.

I take another step, then another. Moving to push aside the stones, pulling the weeds, tracing the root of guilt...until I reach the meadow of all I am, weeds with blossoms, stones polished to gems, a tree growing from all the rotten debris at the root.

I fall upon all I am. I lift me up, I close my eyes and hold me while I rest and heal, until the trembling, quivering stops.

I see all those who love me, support me, accept me with no expectations...I am without fear.I stepped forwarded, a feeling rose, I paused.

What was I feeling? Fear? I see I am scared. How can I share this emotion? With whom?

I have an "image" to maintain. I'm invincible, I never tremble, I'm the foundation, the rock, I carry the heavy loads.

If I quiver, start to lean, this time when I fall...will I get back up...again?

Processing and churning these emotions, I know I have been on this path before. There's the stone of disappointment, the weeds of anger, a root of shame.

I take another step, then another. Moving to push aside the stones, pulling the weeds, tracing the root of guilt...until I reach the meadow of all I am, weeds with blossoms, stones polished to gems, a tree growing from all the rotten debris at the root.

I fall upon all I am. I lift me up, I close my eyes and hold me while I rest and heal, until the trembling, quivering stops.

I see all those who love me, support me, accept me with no expectations...I am without fear.