Dance with Loss

They taught me that winning is everything,

That loss is a wound, a shameful sting.

So I hid behind silence, behind the crowd,

Afraid to stumble, afraid to be loud.

But what if the fall is not the end?

What if it is loss that helps us bend?

What if the scar is just a page—

A mark of courage, not of rage?

The fear of their eyes, of what they will say,

Kept my dreams locked far away.

I wore their judgment like a chain,

But never failing was its own kind of pain.

Now I see through the lies they sold—

That falling is weakness, that fear is bold.

No.

Falling is flight in broken form,

The calm before a rising storm.

To lose is to learn.

To fail is to try.

To crumble today

Is to kiss the sky.

So I will chase the risk, I will greet the pain,

I will dance with loss, I will play the game.

Because loving the fall—

Loving the bruise—

Is how the brave begin to choose.