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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Emotional Expression

  • They Trip on Meaning – A Poem About Miscommunication and Emotional Translation

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    For a long time, I assumed communication struggles were always my fault.

    That if I was misunderstood, I must have explained myself poorly. If conversations became complicated, I must have said something wrong. So I learned to over-explain, rephrase, soften, clarify—constantly translating myself into something easier for other people to process.

    Eventually, that becomes exhausting.

    This piece came from realizing communication is supposed to be mutual. Understanding someone shouldn’t rest entirely on one person carrying the weight of translation.

    Sometimes words fail. Sometimes meaning gets tangled. Sometimes people hear you without truly listening.

    And sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is stop apologizing for existing in your own language.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person surrounded by fragmented floating words symbolizing miscommunication and emotional exhaustion
    I spent years thinking the problem was my voice.

    They Trip on Meaning
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I trip on words,
    like they come
    with two left feet.

    But is it me—
    or is it meaning?

    Maybe it’s just
    a misunderstanding.

    I trip on words—
    they never watch
    where they’re going,
    and I’m tired
    of being blamed
    for their bad coordination.

    They stumble
    out of my mouth,
    bumping into each other,
    apologizing
    on the way down.

    I trip on words,
    and every sentence bruises.

    I never learned
    how to speak
    without falling.

    But I’m starting to think
    maybe it isn’t me—

    maybe it’s them.

    I’m starting to think
    they hear me,
    but they don’t listen.

    Finding meaning
    in the in-between,
    where my mind hides.

    I trip on words,
    embarrassed at first—

    but I’ve grown sick
    of translating myself
    so much
    it hurts.

    I don’t trip on words.

    They trip on meaning,
    then expect me
    to apologize.

    No—
    that’s fine.

    The problem
    isn’t mine.

    I’ve already done
    the hard part.

    Slowed my mind
    so they could try
    to keep up.

    I’ve already done
    the hard part—
    learned myself,
    learned how to see
    someone else.

    I’ve already done the work,
    taken the steps
    to bridge the gaps,
    to close the space
    between us—

    but I can’t
    translate forever.

    Some meanings
    must meet me
    halfway.

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

  • Two Americans – A Poem About Identity, Culture, and Not Belonging

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece wasn’t planned.

    It started as a stream of thought—just letting whatever was there come out without trying to shape it into something clean or intentional.

    Somewhere in that flow, a pattern surfaced.

    The realization that you can share a label with someone—same country, same language—and still feel like you’re speaking from completely different worlds.

    This isn’t about rejecting where I’m from.

    It’s about acknowledging that belonging isn’t always defined by it.

    — Rowan Evans

    Two people standing apart representing cultural and emotional disconnect despite shared identity.
    Same label. Same place. Different worlds.

    Two Americans
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Time flies
    when you’re lost inside
    a wandering mind
    as days turn to nights.

    It’s a cycle—
    thoughts repeat,
    recycled.

    Up before the sun,
    still up
    when the day is done.

    I smile
    when the moon
    greets me.

    Waves crash down
    as thoughts echo out—
    it’s the tide
    that leads me.

    Drifting at sea,
    looking for a place
    that’ll hold me.

    It’s not here.

    I’m not a
    star-spangled,
    salute-the-flag
    patriot.

    I don’t understand
    nationalistic
    points of view.

    That’s why I drift a lot—
    lost in thought
    like I forgot
    how to talk.

    “You’re an American?”
    “Me too.”

    “You speak English?”
    “Me too.”

    Then why
    does it feel like
    two different languages
    when I speak
    with you?

    Two Americans.

    Two different
    cultural views.

    Same place—
    but never
    felt the same.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [None of It Means a Thing]
    Success, fame, and money don’t mean much without someone to share them with. None of It Means a Thing explores love, purpose, and what truly makes life feel complete.

    [Of No Single Nation]
    What if belonging isn’t tied to where you’re from? Of No Single Nation explores identity beyond borders, reframing home as something found in connection rather than geography.

    [Coordinates of Escape]
    A deeply introspective poem about overthinking, emotional loops, and the desire to start over. Coordinates of Escape traces the journey from internal chaos to a deliberate destination—both physical and personal.

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

  • I Don’t Mean Life – A Poem About Misunderstood Words, Identity, and Not Belonging

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There are phrases people hear… but don’t always understand.

    “I don’t want to be here” is one of them.

    It can sound final, heavy, even alarming—but sometimes it isn’t about wanting to disappear.

    Sometimes it’s about wanting relief.

    From pressure. From identity that doesn’t feel like your own. From a place that feels more like confinement than belonging.

    This piece is about that distinction.

    About being misunderstood—not because you’re unclear, but because people hear fear before they hear meaning.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing behind a map-shaped barrier, symbolizing feeling trapped by identity and place
    Sometimes “I don’t want to be here” means I don’t belong—not that I want to disappear.

    I Don’t Mean Life
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I say, “I don’t want to be here,”
    and people panic—
    “Don’t say that,” they shout
    as I struggle to find a way out.

    They worry—
    thinking the words
    mean death.

    But really—
    I just want to lift
    the weight
    from my chest.

    When I say
    I don’t want to be here—
    I don’t mean life.
    I mean this place.

    These borders
    that have become
    a cage.

    Do you know
    what it’s like—

    to carry this weight?

    To feel fake,
    filled with self-hate,
    all because of
    where you’re from?

    They say
    I should be
    more like them.

    Handed labels,
    identity described—
    just an American
    in their eyes.

    But I’ve never
    felt like that
    in my life.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [Of No Single Nation]
    What if belonging isn’t tied to where you’re from? Of No Single Nation explores identity beyond borders, reframing home as something found in connection rather than geography.

    [Where the Tide Calls Me]
    What if feeling stuck isn’t about being lost—but about resisting where you’re meant to go? Where the Tide Calls Me explores belonging, movement, and the courage to follow an unseen pull.

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

  • Miss na Siya – A Short Poem on Longing and Absence

    Rowan Evans

    Introduction

    A moment of longing, a tide that has left me… Sometimes absence is a presence all its own. This short piece reflects the ache of missing someone, of feeling incomplete in empty spaces.

    A small fish in a glowing bowl in an empty room, sunlight streaming in – evoking longing and absence.
    “Even in the quietest rooms, absence has a weight. ‘Miss na siya’ captures that feeling.”

    Miss na Siya
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Miss na siya—
    like a fish
    that can’t breathe
    without its sea.
    Every empty room
    feels like the tide
    has left me.

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