A Poet's Case for Never Giving Up on Anyone
Written by Lorraine Alexis, Poet
Through poetry, spoken word, advocacy, and personal experience, she uses her voice to challenge injustice and inspire others to recognise their potential. Her work explores resilience, family, healing, youth empowerment, and the importance of believing in people whom society may overlook or underestimate.
There is a silence people fear more than any other, the silence of a body on life support, of a person written off as "gone." I have stood inside that silence. Not as a witness. As the one fighting to breathe inside it.
I didn't come back from it unchanged. I came back believing something most people never get the chance to test, that the people we assume can't hear us, can't feel us, or can't come back very often can. That the body, given patience and the right kind of care, has a far greater capacity to heal than we give it credit for. That writing someone off, a person, a child, or a body that won't move the way it's "supposed to," is its own kind of injustice.
What silence actually sounds like
When your body is fighting to survive, you lose the ability to respond to the people around you. But losing your voice is not the same as losing your awareness. In my own experience, and in the experiences of people close to me, presence doesn't disappear when the body goes still. The voices. The music. The hands that stay. They become the thread that keeps a person tethered to the world, even when the world can't see them holding on.
A close friend of mine had a brother in a coma. I told her to bring in a priest, and we prayed for him together, out loud, refusing to treat him like he was already gone. He came out of that coma. When he did, he remembered it all with striking clarity, the voices, the prayers, and the people who wouldn't let go of him. He recovered quickly.
A few weeks later, I was the one on life support, fighting for my own life. I survived it too. When I woke up, I understood exactly what he had described because I had lived the same silence he had.
This is why I believe, with everything in me, that talking to someone who is unconscious, playing the music they love, and simply staying present with them matter far more than most people realize. It won't replace medical care. But it may be part of what helps a person hold on until they can come back to us.
(This reflects my personal experience and belief, not medical consensus. Every situation is different, and families should always be guided by their medical team.)
Nobody's body should be written off either
That same conviction, that people are never as far gone as they look, is what I carry into how I think about physical recovery too. People and children living with limbs or bodies that don't move the way they're "supposed to" are so often told, quietly or loudly, what they will never be able to do. I've never accepted that as the final word on anyone.
Bodies can be retrained. Slowly. Gently. With the right support around them. Progress rarely comes from force. It comes from patience, repeated daily, in small enough doses that the body learns to cooperate instead of resist. That's why consistent movement and professionally guided physiotherapy matter so much for children and adults living with physical conditions. A body that goes unused doesn't just stay the same, it stiffens, and the window for improvement narrows.
I'm not a physiotherapist, and I'm not prescribing a method. What I'm offering is something closer to what I offer through my poetry and mentoring work, a refusal to accept "you can't" as a life sentence. Any physical rehabilitation should always be guided by a qualified professional who can tailor it safely to the person in front of them. But the belief that drives the work, the belief that improvement is possible, belongs to all of us.
Every person can learn, every person has something to teach
This is the line that runs through everything I write, perform, and speak about, on stage, in my mentoring work with young people, and in every article I've written for this platform, every human being has the capacity to learn, no matter their circumstances. Every human being has something to teach, if we're willing to take the time to listen.
That includes children and adults living with severe medical conditions. It includes people society has quietly decided are "too far gone." It includes the person in the hospital bed who looks like they've stopped fighting, and the young person who's been told who they'll never become. Progress is rarely one dramatic breakthrough. It's a thousand small, patient acts, a conversation, a song, an inch of movement, or a moment of being truly seen, stacked until they become something undeniable.
The takeaway
I don't share any of this as medical instruction. I share it as a poet, a mother, and someone who has lived both sides of this story, as the person on life support and as the friend praying for someone else's recovery. What I know for certain is that presence, patience, and a stubborn belief in someone's capacity to improve are never wasted. The people we assume are beyond reach are, more often than we think, still listening, still trying, and still capable of becoming more than anyone expected.
So here is what I'd ask of you, don't give up on the people in your life who are struggling, medically fragile, or seemingly unreachable, in the same way that I refuse to give up on the young people I mentor or on the injustices I write about. Talk to them. Sit with them. Believe in their capacity to come back. Trust that a person, supported by the right professional care and by people who simply refuse to let go, has a remarkable ability to heal.
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Read more from Lorraine Alexis
Lorraine Alexis, Poet
A poet, article writer, spoken word artist, songwriter, and creative advocate, she uses her platform to raise awareness about injustice, support young people, and inspire positive change. With experience in television extra work and a strong social media following, she shares practical guidance, family-focused ideas, business insights, and empowering messages rooted in the belief that everyone has unique gifts and the potential to succeed. Humanity costs nothing, yet the world doesn't see it.
