To be Alive

I think all children were born the same:
stolen from heaven
with tendrils still attached
that stay
but each year that passes by
another
is snapped until the bonds to the beyond
is bent,
broken
bartered
but
nothing’s lost because:

if there is a God, being born
itself is proof we’re loved, and living
becomes loving back
and love becomes a loom attached
to our hearts, pulled so by years and age
until death is less an ending and more
being pulled back into heaven’s arms.




Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 17 times
Written on 2026-10-04 at 07:01

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William Hughes The PoetBay support member heart!
Absolutely love it.
2026-10-04


Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I really appreciate and admire your poem, Sameen. A difficult concept to write about, so brilliantly and simply done here, without the need for lengthy explanations or preambles. Brilliant! Blessings, Allen
2026-10-04