Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
They will analyze your attempt.
They will critique your execution.
They will measure your outcome.
They will say
you should have waited,
prepared more,
been smarter,
been safer.
But they were not there
the moment you decided to begin.
That moment—
when your hands were shaking,
when the outcome was uncertain,
when the risk was real
and the path was not promised—
that was courage.
Not the applause.
Not the success.
Not the finished thing.
The starting.
The world is full of opinions
about those who try.
It is much quieter
about those who never do.
The cowards never started.
They kept their ideas folded.
They kept their dreams hypothetical.
They kept their reputations intact.
They preserved themselves
perfect
and untested.
But you—
you stepped forward
without guarantees.
You risked embarrassment.
You risked failure.
You risked being seen
before you were polished.
You chose exposure
over safety.
That is not small.
That is not casual.
That is a declaration
that your life
is meant to be lived
in motion.
Not every attempt will bloom.
Not every venture will last.
Not every risk will reward you.
But you will never be counted
among those
who watched their own potential
from a distance.
You will never wonder
what might have happened
if you had been braver.
Because you were.
The starting is the victory.
The rest is refinement.
Be proud
of the trembling beginning.
Of the imperfect launch.
Of the first draft.
Of the small, stubborn yes
to something uncertain.
History is built
by those who begin.
Innovation is born
from the audacity of first steps.
And even if the thing you built
changes shape
or disappears—
the person you became
when you dared
to start
remains.
The cowards never started.
You did.
That is enough.
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Poetry by Britt Wolfe:
They say that when you're lost in the wilderness, the best thing you can do is stop wandering, sit down, and yell until someone finds you. But grief is a different kind of wilderness. There are no familiar landmarks, no trail to retrace, and no guarantee that anyone will hear you calling. When Lost, Sit Down and Yell is a poem about the terrible disorientation of losing someone you love, the exhaustion of being told to keep moving forward, and the heartbreaking truth that the person you most want to find you is the one who never can.