Always Rallying
Click here to read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
The world knocks me down
with the weight of its storms,
and still—
I gather the scattered pieces,
stitch myself together
with trembling hands.
Every fall leaves bruises,
every silence a scar,
yet I rise
with the stubborn rhythm
of a heartbeat
that refuses surrender.
I am not made of steel—
I bend, I break, I bleed—
but each time
I learn the language of return:
how to stand again,
how to carry forward
the fragile flame of myself.
Always rallying,
always reaching,
always whispering:
I will not be erased.
Keep My Words Alive
If this poem has stayed with you, you can help keep my words alive or explore more of my work. Every bit of support helps carry the stories forward.
WHERE WORDS MEET MORNING LIGHT
BEGIN EACH DAY WITH SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
Every morning at 7:11AM, I send a poem — sometimes soft, sometimes devastating, always true.
💚 Subscribe now to read and breathe and feel along with me 💚
Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
