Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

There’s a difference between being lost… and being aware that you’re lost.

This piece comes from that second place.

Where you can see the distance between where you are and where you feel like you’re meant to be—but something in you still won’t move.

It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic.

It’s quieter than that.

A kind of exhaustion that sits in your chest and lingers in your thoughts—while the world keeps going like nothing’s wrong.

And you’re left there… knowing you’re meant for more, but not knowing how to reach it.

— Rowan Evans

Quiet Devastation
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I’ve been lost—
wandering.
I know,
I’ve said that before.

I’ve probably
said it a lot.

Wandering—
through mental rot,
every thought
enough to make you stop.

Out of sync
with the world
around me.

Hand on my chest,
I pledge
to the nonsense.

Exasperated sighs—
you can see
how tired I am
just by looking
in my eyes.

It’s a quiet
devastation—
to be stuck in place,
and know
you’re destined for more.

As my mind wanders,
my feet stay stuck—
glued to a shore
that’s never felt
less like home.

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