Author’s Note

This poem began as an experiment in restraint.

I wanted to see what would happen if I stopped relying on metaphor—the oceans, tides, moons, and distant imagery that so often shape the way I write—and instead said things as directly as I could.

What I discovered is that I don’t really think in a “non-metaphorical” way.

Even when I try to remove symbolism, my mind still reaches for it. The language of distance, direction, and crossing appears naturally because that is how I process emotional states: spatially, geographically, in motion.

So the poem became something else.

Not an escape from metaphor, but an awareness of it.

A recognition that even when I say “I won’t use the ocean this time,” I still understand my life through movement across it.

This piece lives in that tension between clarity and instinct—between what I am trying to say plainly, and the language my mind naturally returns to.

And in the end, it admits something simple:

Sometimes the clearest way to say the truth… is still through the shape of the thing you tried to leave behind.

— Rowan Evans

Crossing the Sea (No Metaphor Left Behind)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I am going to try
something that terrifies me—
that most of the time,
would leave me paralyzed.

I am going to try
and say everything
I hold inside—
no metaphors
to hide behind
this time.

I’m not where
I want to be
and part of me,
thinks I’ll never be.

I know that’s just
fear and doubt—

just because part of me
thinks it, doesn’t make it true.

Relocating
is just taking
longer than I wanted it to.

But I know the direction.
The destination is clear—
I just got to get there.

I got to leave here.

This isn’t a new feeling—
I’ve said this all before,
buried in metaphors.

Hidden behind symbolism.

This is where
I’d put the ocean
and the tide,
a way to describe
the distance.

Between where I am
and where I want to be—
and to get there,
I have to cross the sea.

Not a metaphor,
I mean that literally—
Pacific and the Philippine.

Journey into the Hexverse…

[Translating What I Feel]
A poem about the invisible process of turning emotion into imagery, imagery into language, and language into poetry. An intimate reflection on creativity, loneliness, and twenty-three years of learning to translate what the heart feels.

[Recognizes Home]
A free-verse poem exploring the difference between love as dependency and love as choice. It challenges the idea that love must be need-based, instead centering the quiet strength of choosing someone while still remaining whole on your own.

[Not Rebuilding You]
A poem about love as an act of presence rather than rescue. Through construction imagery, Not Rebuilding You explores trust, devotion, emotional safety, and the quiet work of building a foundation strong enough for healing to grow.

[The Language Her Soul Speaks]
What if love isn’t about being understood, but learning to understand someone else? “The Language Her Soul Speaks” is a free verse poem about intimacy, communication, curiosity, and the desire to know another person beyond the limits of language.

[Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3)]
A moonlit shoreline, a rowboat full of ducks, a piggybank with no cents, and a confession hidden in plain sight. Ocean Waves (1, 4, 3) explores how humor, wordplay, and absurdity can become a side door to vulnerability when the truth feels too difficult to say directly.

[L Words & Heart]
A playful, self-aware poem about love, longing, loyalty, and the quiet ways another person can reshape our inner world. What begins as humor slowly reveals a heartfelt confession about affection, imagination, and the faces that linger in our dreams.

[I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise]
Love has never come easily to me. This poem explores the fear, vulnerability, and quiet courage required to stay emotionally present when connection begins to matter deeply. “I’ll Be There to See Your Sunrise” is about choosing love despite the risk of heartbreak—and promising to remain long enough to witness someone fully.

[Altar and Roses]
A gothic free verse poem about poetic identity, recurring symbolism, devotion, and the quiet humanity beneath dramatic imagery.

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