Author’s Note

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from paying attention.

Not just to your own life–but to the world as a whole. The patterns. The repetition. The way the same problems resurface, louder each time, while the people most affected are the ones with the least control over any of it.

Another Fire comes from that place.

It’s not a solution. It’s not even an attempt to be balanced.

It’s a reaction–to the feeling that everything is happening all at once, that crises stack faster than they can be addressed, and that somewhere along the way, empathy gets lost in the noise.

At its core, this piece questions something simple, but uncomfortable:

How did we get to a point where it’s easier to see each other as enemies… than to question the systems that put us in conflict to begin with?

This isn’t about having all the answers.

It’s about refusing to look away.

— Rowan Evans

Another Fire
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I’ve been lost
for a while now—
eyes locked on the world.

I’m just wondering how…
how did we let it
get like this?

It’s a mess,
everyone’s stressed—
except the billionaires.

Stacking money,
sitting higher than fear.

Profits rise
as civilians die.

And everywhere we look…
another fire.

We can’t tackle one problem,
before five more pop up.
It’s like we’re frozen—stuck.

Half the population seems fine with it,
the rest of us screaming,
what the fuck?

The whole world’s running out of luck.

It’s like it’s designed
to slowly chip away—
grip, rip, strip away
your humanity.

Driving us straight
into insanity.

Because it’s insane to me—
how we can look
at another human being
and see an enemy.

When the only real enemy
isn’t standing across from us—

but above us.

Deciding
who fights,
and who dies.

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