Author’s Note

This piece came from a dream where something unfamiliar happened—I felt okay.

Not fixed. Not healed in some permanent way. Just… lighter. Like the weight I’ve gotten used to carrying wasn’t there for a moment.

And then the thoughts came back.

But instead of overwhelming me, they felt… welcome.

That’s what this piece explores.

The shift from silence to noise—not as something to fear, but something to reconnect with. Because even chaos can feel like progress when you’ve been stuck in stillness for too long.

The storm in this poem isn’t destruction.

It’s movement. It’s feeling. It’s life returning.

And somewhere within that storm… there’s also connection.

A voice that feels familiar. Grounding. Real.

Not something that saves you—but something that reminds you how to move again.

— Rowan Evans

The Wind Knew Your Name
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I had a dream last night—
that I was fine.
Depression
didn’t have a grip
on my mind.

The weight
had been lifted.

Slowly—
the mental noise returned.
It started small,
simple thoughts—
but quickly snowballed.

After such a long stretch
of silence,
this wasn’t overwhelm—

this was
welcomed chaos.

It felt like a storm
I wanted to chase,
but I’d forgotten
how to move—
after spending so long
stuck in place.

I lifted—
slow, unsure,
on shaking knees.

The wind
spoke to me.

Encouraging—
familiar—
it sounded like…

you.

One foot
in front of the other,
I began to move—
slowly, at first.

My knees shook
with every step.

I stumbled—
fell—
felt like I failed.

Until the wind
lifted me,
and the rain
kissed my cheek.

The storm
was calling me.

Beckoning.

With the wind at my back,
pushing me—
and the storm ahead,
pulling me—

I moved forward
with something
like confidence.

And with every step closer,
the storm began
to take shape—

your silhouette
in the distance.

Until finally—
we stood
face to face.

And for the first time—
I didn’t want the storm to pass.

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