The Great Adventure Of Being Me
Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
I accept the great adventure of being me—
not as a declaration of arrival,
but as consent
to the unfinished.
To inhabit this body
without apology.
To move through the world
without waiting for permission
to take up my allotted space
and then some.
I have mistaken caution for wisdom before.
Confused self-erasure with grace.
Believed that shrinking was a form of safety
rather than a slow disappearance
performed in plain sight.
But an adventure, by definition,
requires risk.
It demands presence.
It insists on choice
even when certainty refuses to appear.
To be me is not a destination.
It is an ongoing negotiation
between who I have been,
who I was forced to become,
and who now steps forward
without needing justification.
There will be missteps.
Revisions.
Moments when the map dissolves
and I must trust the intelligence
of my own feet.
This is not arrogance.
It is authorship.
I am no longer outsourcing my life
to expectation,
to inheritance,
to the comfort of scripts
written for easier characters.
I am learning to stay
when it would be simpler to leave myself behind.
To speak in my own register.
To choose curiosity over compliance.
The great adventure is not conquest.
It is fidelity.
It is waking each day
and agreeing—again—
to remain intact
inside my own unfolding.
I accept it.
Not because it will be easy,
but because it is mine.
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Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
