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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: anxiety poetry

  • Reading the Sky | A Poem About Depression, Healing, and Emotional Cycles

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    People sometimes talk about depression like it’s constant sadness.

    For me, it’s rarely that simple.

    Sometimes it’s pressure. Sometimes it’s exhaustion. Sometimes it’s numbness so quiet you don’t notice how deep you’ve sunk until something shifts and suddenly you can breathe again.

    That’s where this piece came from.

    Not from a dramatic breakthrough— just a morning where the weight felt lighter.

    And when you’ve carried storms inside yourself for long enough, even small moments of relief can feel almost unreal.

    But one of the hardest things to learn about living with depression is this:

    good days don’t erase bad ones, and bad days don’t erase good ones.

    The storm passing doesn’t mean it’ll never return.

    It means you survived it long enough to recognize clear skies when they arrive.

    That’s what Reading the Sky became about for me.

    Not curing the storm. Not defeating it.

    Just learning its patterns. Learning when the pressure shifts. Learning how to keep breathing through both the thunder and the quiet afterward.

    And maybe most importantly—

    allowing yourself to enjoy the clean air when it finally comes.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary person stands beneath clearing storm clouds as sunlight begins breaking through the sky after rain.
    Some victories are simply learning how to breathe again after the storm passes.

    Reading the Sky
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I woke today
    feeling different—

    like everything
    had changed,
    in an instant.

    Like the storm inside
    had finally gone silent.
    The winds had died,
    but I was alive.

    Smile on my face—
    for the first time,
    didn’t feel out of place.

    I could still see
    lightning on the edges
    of my perception—
    feel the rumble
    of thunder
    in my chest.

    It was softer now.

    This storm had passed,
    but another
    would surely come.

    It’s a cycle—

    and these things
    have a season.

    The storms?

    They come
    and go.

    That’ll never change.

    It’s learning
    to read the sky,
    to feel
    when the pressure shifts.

    Now let me say this plain…

    I’ve got depression.

    It lives in my chest,
    waiting to teach me lessons.

    It’s a storm
    I’ve weathered—

    more than
    any one person should.

    That’s what makes
    days like these—
    feel like the cleanest air
    I’ve ever breathed.

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

  • Still Can’t Speak – A Poem About Silence, Anxiety, and Emotional Suppression

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a kind of silence that isn’t peaceful.

    It isn’t chosen.

    It’s something you fall into—slow at first, then all at once. A place where thoughts don’t stop, but somehow words disappear.

    This piece came from that feeling.

    From trying to speak and finding nothing there. From sinking into your own mind, adjusting to the pressure, and realizing that even when the weight lifts… something hasn’t fully returned.

    Sometimes it’s not about being overwhelmed.

    Sometimes it’s about becoming too used to the quiet.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person sitting underwater among shipwrecks with light filtering from the surface, symbolizing silence and emotional depth
    Even when you can breathe again… the silence can stay.

    Still Can’t Speak
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Silence.

    I’ve been sitting in silence,
    slipping into thoughts
    like quicksand.

    I panic—
    and sink faster.

    I open my mouth,
    but no sound comes out,
    words lost in the abyss
    of endless thought.

    Descending.

    Diving deeper
    into the unknown
    far below,
    waves crash above—

    I open my mouth again,
    take water into my lungs.

    Silence.

    Far below the waves.

    Looking up,
    I see the sun filter
    through the surface—
    light displaced,
    scattered rays.

    Without a sound,
    I’m never found.

    So there,
    on the bottom,
    among the wreckage
    of ships long forgotten—

    I sit with silence,
    waiting for the end.

    I can feel
    the pressure build,
    my bones
    growing weak.

    I feel like I’m adapting,
    or something worse
    is happening.

    The pressure lessens—
    no lesson,
    something is amiss.

    I shouldn’t be
    so used to this.

    The waves recede,
    I can breathe—

    and yet…

    I still can’t speak.

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

  • Storm Systems | A Poem About Mental Health, Emotional Chaos, and Finding Ground

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    For me–it’s weather.

    There are quiet days where everything feels distant, muted, hard to reach. And then there are moments where everything hits at once–fast, loud, overwhelming. Thoughts spiral, emotions intensify, and it becomes difficult to tell whether the storm is passing through… or coming from within.

    For a long time, I thought the goal was to avoid those storms.

    But the truth is–they remind me that I can still feel.

    That I’m still here.

    That I’m still alive.

    This piece sits in that tension–between numbness and chaos, between drifting and grounding.

    Because while the storms keep me aware… there are also people who keep me anchored.

    And sometimes, that’s what makes surviving the storm possible.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing near a lighthouse during a storm, symbolizing emotional chaos and grounding support
    Even in the storm—
    something steady can keep you from drifting.

    Storm Systems
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    My mind—
    it works in weather systems,
    sometimes the fog rolls in.

    Other times—
    the lightning flashes,
    thunder rumbles
    and my thoughts twist.

    They spin and turn—
    something cyclonic.

    And when the twist tightens,
    and the spin quickens—
    I leave nothing but destruction
    in my wake.

    But I guess
    you can call me a storm chaser,
    the way I chase these storms—
    searching for feeling,
    just wanting to feel anything.

    Because anything
    is better than numb.

    It’s a reminder
    I’m alive.

    Honestly—
    I forget sometimes,
    when I’m feeling
    pretty robotic.

    Life can get chaotic.
    It overwhelms.
    It can be too much
    if you can’t
    center yourself.

    You got to go
    with the flow,
    too—

    even when the flow
    is a storm.

    For me?
    That’s where the storms help—
    they keep me aware.

    And then—her voice,
    keeps me
    firmly planted here,

    so I don’t drift and sway,
    and just float away—

    her voice
    a lighthouse
    in all this weather.

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

  • Bad Habit – A Poem About Mental Loops and Self-Awareness

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The mind has a way of repeating itself.

    Patterns, thoughts, loops–they can feel inescapable, like walking through the same place over and over again, no matter how far you think you’ve gone.

    Bad Habit is about recognizing those patterns in real time. Not after the fact, not with clarity or distance–but while you’re still standing inside them.

    It’s the moment of awareness.

    And the quiet decision to not disappear into it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person walking through a repeating or mirrored space, symbolizing mental loops and overthinking
    Some patterns don’t break—they repeat.

    Bad Habit
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’m running in place,
    my feet move but I go nowhere.
    Terrain’s all the same,
    it never changes.

    All the trees
    in the same place.
    All the people
    with the same face.

    Dreams, perhaps—
    or maybe a nightmare?
    My mind,
    it doesn’t fight fair.

    So I’m stuck here.
    Wandering,
    lost in my mind—
    pondering,
    you know I have questions.

    I was just wondering—
    if I reached my hand out,
    would you grab it?
    Pull me back
    from this static?

    I know it’s not you
    that I’m talking to,
    but my brain
    paints you so vivid.
    So I let myself take time,
    I let myself live it.

    It’s all inside my mind,
    dreams, perhaps
    or maybe nightmare.

    Maybe it pulls me in,
    and wants to keep me there.
    Like a ghost of despair,
    trying to get me to—
    disappear.

    But I’m not going
    anywhere.
    Once I’ve climbed
    out of my mind,
    and back into the world.

    Back into myself,
    into clear mental health.
    No more fog,
    no more static.
    No more feeling
    like my life is tragic.

    Another bad habit.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)

    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)

    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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