A Poet
In my lifetime, I came to know of an obscure poet, a man whose talent had never been given the chance to flourish because he lacked the financial means to pursue his creativity. He had become a slave to his work, a work that controlled both him and his time.
Our poet was a man of extraordinary sensitivity, and that very sensitivity made him deeply sorrowful. For there was nothing in this life that could not wound him. The sight of the destitute poor and the suffering sick would make his heart ache. Even things that others might envy people for possessing could bring him to tears.
He was one of those rare individuals who could see beyond the surface of things, never content with appearances alone. In other words, he spoke only to the soul, understanding all its torments and all its joys.
People accused him of weakness because he was so compassionate and forgiving.
One day, the poet met a girl of breathtaking beauty and a pure heart. They fell in love.
But who said our man was living a life of comfort? Poverty lashed him mercilessly with its whip.
Yet what could be more beautiful than a man offering poems to the woman he loves?
And because the poor, as the saying goes, must always taste the bitterness of life, a terrible accident occurred.
The beautiful young woman was left paralysed in both legs. She lost her eyesight, and her face was hideously disfigured.
Our poet wept until his tears ran dry, then hurried to see her. But she had instructed her family to prevent him from entering and to tell him to leave, for she was no longer the girl he had fallen in love with.
He begged them through his tears to let him see her, until their hearts softened towards a man from whom they had never witnessed anything but goodness.
He entered the room and knelt beside her bed.
All she could say was, “Please, leave me and forget me. Can't you see? I have become nothing more than a piece of flesh and bone, good for nothing. Can't you see?! I have no beauty left.”
The poet replied:
“Since when have you believed that I love a body that time and its misfortunes can trample underfoot?
“Do you not know that it is your soul I love, and that I cannot live without it?
“If you are blind, then my eyes will light your way. If you are paralysed, then my body will become the legs that carry you wherever you wish to go. And if you consider yourself ugly, then know that, in my eyes, you are the most beautiful human being in the world.”
The young woman stretched out her hand towards him. He took it, kissing it tenderly as he broke down in tears.
On their wedding day, most people whispered among themselves:
“He must have gone mad in the prime of his youth! He could have married any woman he wanted, yet he chose the blind and paralysed girl!”
I said to them, “This is love.”
They replied, “Indeed, love is blind.”
“No,” I said. “The truth is that there is no such thing as blind love. There are only people who are blind—people who are blind to the soul.”

Dr Sassine El Nabbout © 2026
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