Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Some things don’t arrive all at once.

They show up in fragments–small moments, passing interests, people you meet, places that linger in your thoughts longer than they should.

At first, it feels random.

Disconnected.

But over time, patterns start to form.

This piece comes from recognizing one of those patterns.

Looking back and realizing that what felt like curiosity… was actually direction. That the pull I kept feeling wasn’t new–it was something that had been building quietly for years.

And maybe that’s what alignment feels like.

Not a sudden shift.

But a slow realization that you’ve been moving toward something long before you understood why.

— Rowan Evans

They say—
you’re an American,
you can’t change it.
It runs through the blood,
burrows in the marrow.
You’re an American today,
you’ll be one tomorrow.

Sure—
that’s true.

American is the label
I wear.

But it’s not the one
I claim.

These are the lands
I was born in—
but they’ve never
been home.

I’ve known
since I was fourteen
I was meant
to leave.

Started planning
at seventeen.

Eighteen—
applied for a job
in Japan.

I pictured
walking Tokyo’s streets,
slipping through alleyways—

a quiet life
in a city alive.

Nineteen—
felt the pull
of Korea,
the hum of Seoul
in my soul.

Twenty—
I wandered China
in my mind.

But it never felt
quite right.

So I kept searching,
listening
to the shifts
inside.

And then—

a pattern emerged.

I didn’t notice it
at first.

Manila.
The Philippines.

A thread
that’s been there
since I was eighteen.

Subtle—
at the start.

Two kids
I took
under my wing.

That’s how it began.

And then it kept appearing—
in the friends
I met online,

in the people
I was drawn to.

It felt like
a magnetic pull.

In the last year—
maybe more—

it’s become stronger
than ever before.

And somewhere
in that pull—

is her.

Not the reason—

but proof

that I was already
on my way.

This doesn’t feel
like curiosity anymore.

It feels like alignment.

Like something in me
has been pointing
in one direction
all along—

and I’m only now
choosing
to follow it.

Journey into the Hexverse!

[121° East]
A single line of longitude becomes something more—a reflection of distance, identity, and the quiet decision to become who you were always meant to be.

[Coordinated of Escape]
A deeply introspective poem about overthinking, emotional loops, and the desire to start over. Coordinates of Escape traces the journey from internal chaos to a deliberate destination—both physical and personal.

[Of No Single Nation]
What if belonging isn’t tied to where you’re from? Of No Single Nation explores identity beyond borders, reframing home as something found in connection rather than geography.

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