Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

This piece explores the tension between awareness and exhaustion in a world of systemic injustice. It confronts the pressure to “stay woke,” highlighting both the courage and the emotional toll of resisting oppression.

WOKE (Part 1)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I stay WOKE, that’s why I never sleep—
I’m anti-fascist, now labeled a terrorist.
I say fuck ICE; my drinks turn warm,
Bitter, sharp, like the words I spit loud.

Aren’t we the nation that fought Nazis?
Now we put them in power, watch them grin.
I march, I scream, I tweet, I bleed—
Speaking truth, they brand me a disease.

They call me criminal for thought, for breath,
For existing outside their “acceptable” cage.
My rage is wildfire, my words a sword,
A hymn for the silenced, hunted, ignored.

I see them smile on screens,
Policies choking hope, their hands clean.
Streets flood with fear; they whisper, “It’s nothing.”
Disappear quietly, they urge.

But I will not. I cannot.
I write in neon ink, in scarlet screams,
I am the echo of every voiceless soul,
The pulse of a conscience refusing to fold.

WOKE isn’t trendy—it’s a wound,
A heartbeat racing in a country turned cold.
I stay awake in hollowed halls,
Because truth shouts, and lies always fall.

You’ve felt the burn of vigilance—now step deeper into the fight. WOKE Part 2: Bearing Witness to Injustice → challenges you to face the weight of history and the echoes of oppression.