What Remains
Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
When the storms come—
and they always do—
let them strip you bare.
Let the wind take what was never yours to keep.
Let the rain carve through every false foundation
until all that’s left is the truth of you.
Because beneath the breaking,
beneath the ruin,
there is something that does not yield.
Something older than hope,
deeper than fear.
It hums in your marrow like memory—
a knowing that you were built to withstand.
Roots don’t shout their strength.
They simply hold.
They reach down through stone and shadow,
through the buried bones of who you were,
and they whisper:
You are still here.
This is what remains—
the quiet magnificence of survival,
the unshaken core that endures every ending
and calls it transformation.
When all else falls away,
you will find yourself standing—
taller, truer,
your heart a redwood in the clearing,
your soul still reaching for the sun.
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Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
