Poetry by Rowan Evans

Introduction

Sometimes, the quiet isn’t empty. 
Sometimes, it carries you, like a pulse behind the walls. 
Here, in the hush, I watch. 
Here, in the stillness, I breathe. 
Here, I am seen, even when no else is. 
 
— Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

Between Walls and Whispers (Ghost and Witness)
Pᵒᵉᵗʳʸ bʸ Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ

Sometimes, I find myself 
surrounded in silence— 
not absence, 
but a quiet hum behind the walls. 
The room feels full, 
but nobody’s really there, 
and I am both ghost 
and witness— 
 
drifting, endless, 
caught in this forced flow 
of normalcy. 
 
A weirdo, 
misfit, outcast— 
purposeful outsider, 
rejector of the machine. 
 
I don’t want to be another cog. 
Sometimes, I long for silence— 
not the absence, 
but that gentle presence, 
a pulse softer 
than the endless hum. 
 
And in that silence, I breathe. 
I am seen, 
I am held, 
not by voices or eyes, 
but by the quiet 
that understands 
what the hum 
cannot touch.

If you’re looking for more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]