We Shall Stand in the Sun With a Will, and We Shall Be Dangerous

A printed version of Kahlil Gibran’s Defeat hangs on my wall, as a fine reminder that any aversion I might have to risk or potential failure is more likely to generate missed opportunities than to keep me genuinely safe or comfortable.

In his magnificent acknowledgement of the essential role and function of failure, Gibran personifies Defeat, addressing it with the rich, undying affection otherwise reserved for an old friend—more specifically, one with whom an unbreakable bond was once forged on one of life’s many battlefields.

It’s been a decade since this poem came to me, but it won’t be coming down any time soon. I’ve nurtured solid friendships with risk and failure over the years; of course, there will always be new risks to take, and bigger and better failures to love and learn from. The idea that Defeat is worthy not only of grudging tolerance, but of true reverence and devotion, is evergreen. I keep this poem close because, as much as it offers a truly unexpected take, it lands for me in a way that feels incredibly valuable and deeply right.

At this point, I imagine this either makes total sense to you, or you’ve decided that I must be a full-blown masochist. In any case, I felt called to share Gibran’s open-hearted rendering of Defeat today. Here it is—enjoy.

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness;
You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs,
And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.

Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance,
Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot
And not to be trapped by withering laurels.
And in you I have found aloneness
And the joy of being shunned and scorned.

Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield,
In your eyes I have read
That to be enthroned is to be enslaved,
And to be understood is to be levelled down,
And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness
And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed.

Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion,
You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences,
And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings,
And urging of seas,
And of mountains that burn in the night,
And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul.

Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage,
You and I shall laugh together with the storm,
And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us,
And we shall stand in the sun with a will,
And we shall be dangerous.