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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: belonging poetry

  • From Here, Not Of Here – A Poem About Cultural Disconnection and Belonging

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a difference between disliking a place… and feeling fundamentally misaligned with it.

    This piece isn’t about hatred. It isn’t about believing one country is morally superior to another.

    It’s about disconnect.

    About living somewhere your entire life while still feeling emotionally, culturally, and spiritually out of phase with it.

    I’ve written about this feeling for years now in different forms: through oceans, through maps, through eastward imagery, through sleep schedules that drift toward different time zones, through the idea of being “from” somewhere but not truly “of” it.

    And the older I get, the more I realize this feeling was never temporary.

    It wasn’t rebellion. It wasn’t escapism.

    It was direction.

    Some people spend their whole lives trying to become rooted where they were planted.

    But some of us are shaped by movement.

    Some of us were always meant to leave.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing alone on an American street feeling disconnected from their surroundings
    Some people are born where they are meant to be. Others are meant to journey beyond it.

    From Here, Not Of Here
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I stood still—
    between existing
    and not.

    I stood still—
    on the streets
    I’ve always walked.

    Talking to the same people
    I’ve always talked to.

    I stood still—
    that’s hard for someone like me.

    I was born to flee,
    not to run—
    nor escape,
    but to leave behind
    these rigid states.

    I was destined—
    to map my own fate,
    to tell my own story.

    Since I was born
    every step away from,
    has been a step toward—

    at fourteen,
    I started running.
    Picking up speed—

    even though the roads
    have been long,
    I know the path
    I’m on isn’t wrong.

    But every morning,
    I wake up at nine AM—
    I know my sleep schedule
    shifted again,
    further from where
    I want to be.

    So I mutter to myself:

    Seryoso ka ba, pero…

    I’m tired.

    I’m tired of fighting
    a current never meant for me—

    tired of existing in a place
    that’s supposed to be home,
    but I feel foreign—

    like this is the land
    I’m from—
    but not the land
    I’m of—

    I was meant
    for more,
    somewhere far
    beyond these shores.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Out of Sync]
    A reflective free verse poem about emotional displacement, shifting sleep cycles, and feeling spiritually drawn toward another side of the world.

    [Roles Assigned]
    A quiet exploration of modern life, invisible burdens, and the roles people inherit before they ever choose who they are.

    [Global Takeover]
    What if home isn’t a place—but something you build from the music you love? Global Takeover blends sound, culture, and identity into one borderless space.

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

  • Global Mind – A Poem About Borders, Belonging, and Finding Home Beyond Geography

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece came from a place of clarity more than frustration. For most of my life, I’ve felt disconnected from the borders around me – not in rebellion, but in recognition. My internal world has always felt wider than the map I was handed.

    Global Mind isn’t about rejecting where I’m from. It’s about understanding that home, for me, has never been strictly geographic. It’s something relational. Something resonant. A connection to people and cultures that feel aligned, not assigned.

    Sometimes the relief comes not from escaping – but from finally articulating what you’ve known all along.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person standing on a city overlook at sunset, gazing toward a vast blended horizon symbolizing global identity and belonging beyond borders.
    Sometimes home isn’t a place.
    It’s a people. A connection. A resonance.

    Global Mind
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    A global mind,
    trapped inside
    imaginary lines.
    These borders
    feel more like—
    shackles and chains.

    How do you
    push through
    when you—
    have always felt
    chained but unclaimed?

    Disconnected
    from the world
    around you.

    I feel like—
    I don’t belong
    and I never have.

    This place isn’t home to me.

    It’s emotional
    purgatory.
    Trapped in waiting.

    But you’re drawn to SEA—
    so you open your eyes
    to witness, the world
    in its vast existence.
    Stayed curious.
    Wanting to see
    every corner
    of every country.

    I want to understand.

    Now, I don’t know
    what the future holds.
    Or where I’ll finally
    put down roots,
    but I know when I
    finally find—home,
    it’ll be in the people
    around me. More than
    my surroundings.
    Because sometimes
    home isn’t a place.

    It’s a people.
    A vibe.

    A connection
    to a culture
    that resonates,
    in a way
    that your own
    never did.

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

  • Imaginary Lines – A Poem About Borders, Identity & Shared Humanity

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece came from a lifelong feeling of distance – not just from place, but from the way people divide themselves.

    It isn’t anti-country. It isn’t anti-culture. It’s anti-separation.

    I’ve never understood how imaginary lines on maps can outweigh shared humanity. This poem is me saying plainly what I’ve felt for years: we are far more alike than we are different, and the borders we defend so fiercely don’t exist in our blood or our bones.

    This isn’t rebellion for the sake of rebellion.
    It’s clarity.

    — Rowan Evans

    A symbolic image of a cracked border line beneath a star-filled sky, representing unity beyond national divisions.
    The border isn’t the edge of the world. It’s the edge of perception.

    Imaginary Lines
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I don’t feel
    like I’m from here,
    like I come from out
    beyond the stars—
    somewhere far,
    lightyears beyond mars.

    I watch and observe,
    as humans continue
    to act absurd.
    It’s like they
    don’t know how
    to act.
    Kind of like
    they don’t know how
    to treat each other.

    Focused on imaginary lines,
    barriers and borders.
    With a—
    if you’re not like me,
    you’re the enemy
    mentality.

    When you bleed
    it all looks the same.
    Human is human.
    The rest is costume.

    No passport in the bloodstream.
    No nation in the bone.

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