Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Some experiences leave marks that cannot be erased. Some truths are shouted silently in the shadowed corners of memory.

Echoes of Reality is my attempt to give voice to a time I was silenced, to the confusion and pain that lingered long after the moments themselves. This piece does not seek comfort or closure—it seeks acknowledgment. It is a testament to survival, to remembering, and to insisting that my reality is my own.

Read with care, and hold space for the truth it carries.

Echoes of Reality
Poetry by Rowan Evans

Have you heard somber words spoken,
and felt the cold touch of trauma?
Because I know the confusion caused
by their cold invalidation,
the questioning of reality,
like did it really happen—
the way I’m remembering?

Their touches, unwanted,
but that’s not what they’ll tell you,
gaslighting, rewriting,
reality to confuse and manipulate,
to keep you questioning,
did that really happen—
the way I’m remembering?

You try and get away,
but it follows, always advancing,
unwanted, it was unwanted,
but that’s not what they tell you,
until eventually, even you’ll believe,
it didn’t really happen—
the way you’re remembering.

It’s been years, so why do I still feel them,
why is my skin not coming clean?
If it never happened,
why does it replay in my darkest dreams,
why does the nightmare keep repeating,
if it never happened—
the way I’m remembering?

I’ve struggled through the dark,
trying to resurface, but I’m lost here,
I’m stuck in this place,
it endlessly replays
and still, I keep questioning,
are these even memories?
But why would I make it up,
for what?

My eyes are open, now I see,
this was my reality,
it happened, you can’t say it didn’t,
because it happened to me,
I lived it.
I felt it.
And I know,
it happened exactly—
as I’m remembering.