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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Empathy

  • Exhibit of Survival – Reflection on Resilience and Empathy by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece reflects on the quiet strength it takes to remain soft in a world that often tries to harden you. It’s a personal reflection on resilience, empathy, and the enduring capacity to love, even in the face of doubt and adversity.

    This post marks my 83rd consecutive day of sharing on the blog,   I have not missed a day since August 8th… During this time, I have tried to push myself to be a little more open. A little more honest. Even when it’s hard, even when I just want to be closed off from the world…

    Figure sitting on the floor surrounded by pinned papers and threads, illuminated by soft light, representing reflection, resilience, and quiet strength.
    Caught in the threads of life — resilience and reflection hold them in place.

    Exhibit of Survival
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Pins.
    They hold me in place.
    As the glass
    lowers over my face.
    Framed.
    In a frame. On display.
    Like a dead butterfly.

    I have had people in my life who pretended to be on my side—who pretended to care—when really, they just wanted front-row seats to my struggles. They wanted to watch as I unraveled, whispering doubts to freeze me in place, to preserve the ache. To keep me from moving forward. And yet, I still pushed. I still tried.

    Threads.
    Tied to limbs.
    Marionette.
    Puppet on strings.
    They’ve got control of me.
    Free? Not really.

    Those same people tried to talk me out of anything I wanted to do—anything that could bring me closer to the life I wanted. “Why do you want to leave America?” they’d ask. But it’s not my home; it’s just the place I was born. The place I was raised. I’ve never felt like I belong here. Not once.

    Everything holds me back—my brain looping their doubts, my own depression and anxiety echoing them back to me. It’s a war on all fronts. And still, I stand.

    My thoughts.
    They flutter and fade
    in this liminal space.
    It’s pain—
    just to be alive.
    It’s a wonder.
    A miracle.
    How have I survived?

    Resilience. And reminders from the few who truly see me, who truly believe in me. Without them, I might have given up long ago. But because of them, I’ve kept my empathy alive. I’ve refused apathy. I’ve stayed soft. I’ve kept my heart open and given love freely.

    How?
    How have I
    made it to thirty-five?
    Every day I wake up.
    Surprised.

    That surprise isn’t mine anymore. It’s the echo of others’ doubts—ones I no longer answer.

  • I Love You (Enough to Learn You) – Vow III: Understanding | Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The Vows began as an exploration of devotion — not the romanticized kind, but the kind forged in ache, honesty, and reverence.

    Vow I was surrender: letting the ink run dry, allowing love to unmake what was hardened.
    Vow II was endurance: the willingness to break, to bear the bruise and still remain.
    And Vow III — this final vow — is understanding: the quiet promise to listen, to learn, and to love without translation.

    Together, they form a trinity of intimacy — the heart’s slow evolution from sacrifice to fluency, from bleeding to belonging.

    This isn’t a story of martyrdom. It’s a story of witnessing: of meeting someone’s soul and saying, I see you, I’ll learn you, I’ll speak your language.
    That is the purest vow I know.

    — Rowan Evans

    “Two hands nearly touching through candlelight over scattered handwritten vows and ink-stained pages — symbolizing understanding and emotional intimacy.”
    “The final vow — not of silence or breaking, but of becoming fluent in another’s heart.” — Rowan Evans

    I Love You (Enough to Learn You)
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’d let the ink run dry,
    then I’d break willingly.
    That was vow one,
    and vow two.
    This is vow three—for you.

    I love you enough
    to put you first—
    to make you a priority
    in my life.
    Everyone else be damned,
    I will—

    learn your language,
    learn the nuance,
    so you can speak freely,
    say exactly what you need.

    I will learn the cadence of your world,
    so I can understand—
    not to change you,
    but to meet you where you are.

    I love you enough to listen
    when words falter,
    to read what your silence says
    when your voice can’t.

    I’ll make a home in your pauses,
    a temple in your sighs.
    You gave me peace—
    so I’ll give you peace of mind.

    I’ll give you understanding—
    that’s vow three.
    Not of silence,
    not of breaking,
    but of becoming fluent
    in your heart.

    The Silent Vows

    [I Love You (Enough to Go Silent)]
    A vow written in ink and silence — a confession of love so deep it would sacrifice its own voice to spare another’s tears. “I Love You (Enough to Go Silent)” is a Neo-Gothic devotion from Rowan Evans, where the act of not speaking becomes the loudest declaration of love.

    [I Love You (Enough to Break Willingly)]
    A vow whispered in ink and ache — love not as surrender, but as shared endurance. “I Love You (Enough to Break Willingly)” is Rowan Evans’ second vow, a quiet confession of devotion that chooses breaking over leaving, and burden over indifference.

  • mabuti ako ng hindi ako mabuti – Poem by Rowan Evans | Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Mabuti ako ng hindi ako mabuti was born from that familiar ache of being awake while the world sleeps—the quiet, heavy solitude of overthinking and feeling too much. It’s about seeing the beauty in others while struggling to recognize it in yourself, about cracks, missing pieces, and the weight of empathy in a world that can feel cold.

    The poem weaves together languages, not by accident but by instinct: the Tagalog line as both title and closing heartbeat, grounding the piece in a personal, intimate voice; and my youthful “Nani the fuck?”—a playful, yet sharp, reflection of confusion and disbelief, a nod to my early fascination with Japanese and the way language can capture emotion in a single exclamation.

    This is a poem about exhaustion, insomnia, and the unrelenting pressure of a sensitive heart. It’s also about holding space for yourself the way you hold space for others—learning to see your own gold, even when the lanterns have burned out and the path is dark.

    Solitary figure sitting on bed in dimly lit room, hands covering face, shadows cast across cracked walls with scattered glowing Kintsugi fragments on the floor, evoking introspection and emotional struggle.
    Even in darkness and brokenness, fragments of unseen beauty remain.

    Mabuti Ako ng Hindi Ako Mabuti
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I stand before the mirror—
    and all I see, staring back at me
    are cracks.
    I’m just a broken mess,
    a bowl full of holes—
    too big to mend with gold.

    I’ve got—
    too many missing pieces.
    Too many pieces left behind.
    There’s no Kintsugi here.
    No witnesses near.

    Shaking hands and tear stained face,
    I’m so alone, always alone.
    Even with people around.

    All my relationships—
    The color of autumn.
    People leave.

    Now I ask—
    why can’t I see the beauty
    in my own imperfections?
    Why do I only hold that view,
    for everyone but me?
    Why can’t I see?
    Why am I so blind to me?

    And I feel stuck in the dark.
    My laterns burned out,
    I’m wandering lost.
    Is this the cost—
    for being a gentle soul like me?

    The world wasn’t made for me—
    I’m too warm for apathy,
    I cling to empathy like a life vest.
    I give weary souls a place to rest,
    but nowhere for me to lay my head…
    So I stay up instead.

    Insomnia has a hold on me. 
    I’ve stayed up for two days— 
    in one twenty-four hour period. 
    How does that add up? 
    But that’s the math. 
    Don’t laugh. Don’t ask.
    Nani the fuck?

    Yet still, people ask,
    “How are you doing?”
    I say, mabuti ako
    ng hindi ako mabuti.

    If you enjoyed this poem, check out more of my work [here].

  • Prayers for the Philippines: Standing in Solidarity After Typhoon Tragedy

    Rowan Evans

    Heartfelt Solidarity: Support for Those Affected by the Recent Storm in the Philippines

    The flag of the Philippines at half mast.
    For every life lost, for every heart still beating.

    Even though I have never set foot in the Philippines, the country has always held a special place in my heart. Over the years, through friendships and personal connections, I have come to feel a deep respect and affection for its people. Asia, in general, has been a part of my life in ways I sometimes can’t fully explain, but that connection runs deep.

    Hearing about the recent storm that tragically took the lives of ten people in the Philippines hit me hard. I cannot imagine the grief, loss, and upheaval that families and communities are enduring. It is in moments like these that I feel compelled to stand in solidarity, even from afar.

    If you feel moved to help, here are a few reputable organizations providing relief and support to those affected:

    Philippine Red Cross – Emergency aid, medical relief, and recovery support across the country.

    GlobalGiving – Provides emergency supplies and long-term recovery assistance.

    Caritas Manila – Coordinates disaster response and long-term recovery efforts.

    Oxfam Pilipinas – Supports marginalized communities and climate resilience programs.

    World Vision Philippines – Provides food, shelter, and child protection during emergencies.

    Save the Children Philippines – Ensures children’s education, health, and protection in disaster-affected areas.

    Even a small act of support—whether it’s donating, spreading awareness, or keeping those affected in your thoughts—can make a difference. My heart goes out to everyone impacted, and I hope we can all hold them in compassion and solidarity.

    I send this prayer across the ocean—
    to the shorelines I’ve never touched,
    to the people I’ve always carried in my heart.
    Even in the dark,
    light belongs to you.

    May the storms relent,
    and the seas grow still.
    May hands find hands,
    and hearts hold fast.
    The sun will rise again
    over the islands I love.

    Though miles and waters divide us,
    I feel your grief like it is my own.
    Hold on, beloved Philippines—
    my heart is with you.