My Own Defeat

It has been 18 months since I wrote this poem. I was in an emotional crisis then. I had failed and failed again. There was no pride to help me then. There was no confidence to keep my spirits from kneeling down. The mess I had made out of myself was frightening enough to keep me away from making another attempt. There was nothing that could make me hope. Nothing except my own defeat… thrust in my face by the punishing hand of fate.

It has been 18 months since I wrote this poem. It didn’t come out of the blue. It didn’t just happen. It was the outcome of self inflicted pain combined with a lot of realization. It was my will power being hammered back to its self again. It hurt… I cried. But that fire only purified me. By the time I had reached the last line, I knew… no one could conquer me.

It has been 18 months since I wrote this poem. Today, as I share it with you, the fire still burns bright within me. I hope the sparks can ignite your heart too…      

My Own Defeat…

Maybe O’ world you took my all,

But there’s still a beat…

Of all those things I found and lost

I still own my defeat.

Still I own that ache you left,

Deep within my heart…

These memories still stay fresh with me

With myself split apart…

And still I have my shame and shadows

In darkness left behind

I like it more than pride and valor

It’s getting on my mind…

I like these darkened hues around

I like my dreams of light

I’ll rise again O’ world, you’ll see

I’ll rise to win my fight!

  Behold O’ foolish fortune makers

Heed this silent speech

I’m the maker of my fate

You cannot conquer me.

  

                                                               - kafir…