Author’s Note

Some feelings don’t fade with age.

They sharpen.

I’ve been writing versions of this poem since I was a teenager, long before I had the language to understand what I was actually trying to say.

Back then, people treated it like escapism. Wanderlust. Fantasy. A phase.

But there’s a difference between wanting to travel and feeling fundamentally misaligned with the place you were born into.

This piece isn’t about hating where I’m from. It’s about disconnection — about spending most of your life emotionally out of sync with the environment around you, while feeling an inexplicable, almost gravitational pull toward places you’ve never physically been.

For years, I hid that truth behind metaphor. Tokyo alleyways. Neon lights. Foreign streets. Airports. Oceans. Other languages drifting through the background. It was easier to let imagery speak for me than to say the thing outright.

This poem is me pulling the mask off a little.

Not to be dramatic.

Just honest.

Because after long enough, recurring imagery stops being aesthetic and starts becoming evidence.

And maybe that’s what poetry has always been for me:

A compass trying to explain itself.

— Rowan Evans

The Needle Doesn’t Point North
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I have been sitting with this
for most of my life.

I’ve talked about it before.

I’ve written it,
more times than I can count—
since I was fourteen
I’ve wanted out.

I was told,
“it’s a kid’s fantasy,”
just a phase I’d outgrow.

But here I am at thirty-six,
still dreaming of distant shores.

The soil may have shifted
over the years,
but the pull remained the same.

Growing up
with this feeling stuck
in the pit of my gut,

do you know what that’s like?

To never feel like you fit,
always out of place.

But everyone around you
doesn’t see it—

they see a teen
being difficult,
notebook clutched
with plans
scribbled inside.

These weren’t just poems—
they were escape routes
written in code,
only I could read.

I wrote about Tokyo’s streets
and walking through alleyways—

masked in metaphors,
buried in similes—

I’ve written about Beijing,
and Shanghai,
with nocturnal trips
to Seoul.

But I’ve never
said it so plain.

I was born here,
so I’m from here—
but I don’t feel connected,
I’m not of here.

American mouth,
global mind—

been this way
since seventeen.

Shh—
I went quiet,
but the fire
wasn’t silent.

I could hear it speak,
it was urging me.

Eighteen came and went,
nineteen too.

I could still feel
the pull—
but it was different now.

Deeper.
Stronger.
More mature.

Twenty, twenty-one,
twenty-two, twenty-three—
four more years,
still stuck.

Not trapped.

New destination appeared—
and it’s been the same since.

I’ve said it before,
the needle
doesn’t point north—

body in the west,
puso sa silangan.

Journey into the Hexverse…

[Weather in My Chest]
“Weather in My Chest” is a free verse poem about emotional hyperawareness, social tension, and the quiet experience of carrying internal storms into rooms that react before a single word is spoken.

[Sound as a Vessel]
“Sound as a Vessel” is a free verse poem about music as emotional architecture, exploring how international artists and soundscapes shaped identity, creativity, memory, and poetic voice.

[Just Knowing You Has Been Enough]
“Just Knowing You Has Been Enough” is a deeply vulnerable free verse poem about unspoken love, emotional fear, coded confessions, and the quiet truth of caring for someone without needing perfection in return.

[The Streets I Walk When I Sleep]
“The Streets I Walk When I Sleep” is a deeply intimate free verse poem about recurring dreams, emotional connection, longing across distance, and the strange feeling of remembering places and moments that have never happened in waking life.

[Memories From a Life Yet to Come]
Some dreams feel less like fantasy and more like memory. “Memories From a Life Yet to Come” is a reflective free verse poem about longing, displacement, emotional alignment, and the strange comfort of recognizing yourself more clearly in dreams than in waking life

[Separate Timelines]
“Separate Timelines” is a surreal and deeply introspective free verse poem about emotional distance, time zones, vulnerability, and the fear of losing a connection that already feels meaningful before the words are ever spoken aloud.

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