Below is the poem entitled Alive which was written by poet
Spik. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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What does it mean to be alive?
Is it movement,
taking up space,
putting one foot in front of the other,
healing our scars,
moving on and
getting back up?
Or, is it your brain activity,
emotions, swirling through your mind,
a soul powerful like a force,
a light that can brighten any darkness
inside and out?
Or is it imaginations,
looking for tomorrow,
that only lead to fulfillment,
to learning something new?
Is it making a difference,
some sort of contribution,
meaning something to someone,
delivering a memory,
a smile, a sense of hope?
Or, could it simply be a heartbeat,
blood pumping through your body,
full of warmth and passion,
breathing, inhaling, exhaling,
But, what if your movement is
slow, your motions invisible,
the space you take up is wasted,
and moving on is impossible,
because you are constantly pushed
and whenever you try
to get back up, you are sent back
falling down again and again,
leaving a scar that never
What if you are emotionless,
and the only feeling is numbness,
and your only thoughts are possessed
of how to stop the terror inside your darkened mind,
and your soul was stolen by all the obscurity
inside and out?
What if you forgot how to imagine good,
and are only led to disappointment
by others and yourself,
and searching for tomorrow was lost
by an endless today?
What if every time
you attempt to give, to have some value,
you are shattered by rejection
from everyone in your life
that you lost any hope that was left?
What if your heart
has no reason to continue beating,
and your blood has become cold as ice?
Are you really living
when breathing is the hardest thing for you to do?
So tell me…
what does it really
mean to be alive?