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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Philippines

  • Toward Somewhere I Can Breathe | A Poem About Longing, Disconnection & Finding Home

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece is about a feeling I’ve struggled to name for most of my life — a feeling that I have tried to explain more recently — a quiet but persistent disconnect that began when I was fourteen.

    It isn’t about hating where I’m from.
    It isn’t about romanticizing somewhere else.

    It’s about that internal shift — the moment you realize you feel unrooted in a place where everyone else seems firmly planted.

    For years, I thought I was running away.
    Now I understand I’ve been moving toward something.

    Whether that “home” is a city, a country, a person, or a version of myself I haven’t fully stepped into yet — I don’t know.

    But I know this:
    I am not lost anymore.
    I am in motion.

    — Rowan Evans

    A lone figure looking toward a distant city skyline under a star-filled night sky, symbolizing longing and the search for home.
    Sometimes home isn’t where you started. Sometimes it’s where you finally breathe.

    Toward Somewhere I Can Breathe
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’ve tried my whole life
    to explain it.
    This disconnect,
    I’ve felt since
    2004.

    How can I make it
    any more clear?
    I just don’t belong here.

    I’m going to try
    and try to make it
    make sense.
    I was fourteen,
    Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi
    on the screen.

    But that’s not the important part.

    Inside—
    I could feel
    threads fray,
    and they
    already existed
    in decay.

    But I learned quickly,
    in 2007 exactly—
    there is Filth in the Beauty,
    and the reverse
    can be the same.

    That’s when
    my view of the
    world changed,
    and became
    cemented.

    Something shifted,
    vision cleared—
    and everything
    I missed before,
    just appeared.

    Where everyone
    around me,
    seemed rooted
    in the here.

    And I—
    would close my eyes,
    and wish upon
    shooting stars.
    I wanted out,
    I wanted to leave,
    go somewhere far.

    I knew it would take time,
    I needed things to align.
    But now I know
    what I’m moving toward,
    what I’m working for.

    I’m moving toward home.
    A place, where I belong.

    Maybe when I finally leave,
    I’ll touch down in the Philippines
    to walk Manila’s streets,
    and finally be able to breathe.

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

  • Standing with the Philippines After Typhoon Uwan

    Rowan Evans

    Across the Storm, My Heart Still Beats with the Philippines

    Calm ocean at dawn showing light after the storm.
    Hope rises again — across the storm, across the sea.

    Over the past week, my heart has carried the weight of storms.
    First, Typhoon Tino (Kalmaegi) swept through the central islands,
    and before the earth could breathe,
    Super Typhoon Uwan (Fung-wong) roared across nearly the entire country—
    winds and rains so vast, they seemed to swallow the sky.

    Even from across an ocean, I have felt it—the ache, the worry,
    the whispered prayers that travel through time zones.
    I have friends there, people I hold close to my heart,
    and through them, I have come to love not just individuals,
    but the spirit of the Filipino people:
    resilient, compassionate, endlessly giving,
    even when there is little left to give.

    As the news unfolded, I did what I could from here:
    prayed to whatever higher powers might hear me,
    lit candles, whispered the names of those I love,
    sent energy into the dark,
    and asked others to do the same.

    It is never enough, I know.
    But love—even distant love—is still a kind of offering.
    And I hope that love can reach you,
    even across oceans and storm clouds.

    If you feel moved to help, consider lending your compassion to relief efforts—
    whether through a donation, spreading awareness,
    or sending your own prayers into the night. Every act ripples outward.

    Here are organizations providing emergency relief and long-term support:

    Philippine Red Cross – Emergency aid, medical relief, and disaster response.

    GlobalGiving – Immediate supplies and funds for recovery projects.

    Caritas Manila – Coordinates aid for affected families and communities.

    Oxfam Pilipinas – Supports marginalized communities and climate resilience.

    World Vision Philippines – Offers food, shelter, and protection for children.

    Save the Children Philippines – Focused on education and child safety during disasters.

    I also encourage those outside the country to seek local, community-led donation drives and mutual aid networks within the Philippines—people helping people, neighbors helping neighbors. Their voices, their needs, must always be centered.

    A Prayer for the Islands I Love
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    May the waters still,
    and recede.
    May roofs rise again,
    and laughter return to the doorways.
    May every whispered prayer
    become a hand reaching out.

    For every island, every home,
    every heart that still trembles—
    know that you are not alone.
    Even across oceans,
    my love remains with you.

    May my friends, and the families I carry in my heart,
    find safety, courage, and hope.
    May the warmth, pride, and spirit
    of a people I have come to love so deeply
    guide them through the night.

    The sea cannot drown
    what is built on hope.
    And the light,
    the light always returns
    to the Philippines.

    With love, solidarity, and prayers,
    Rowan Evans

  • Polyjamourous: A Love Letter to Music, Culture, and Connection Across Oceans

    Rowan Evans

    The Introduction…

    Sound has always lived differently in me.
    Being autistic means the world sometimes reaches me at full volume —
    too much light, too much noise, too much everything.

    The static hum of a fluorescent bulb,
    the electricity whispering through the walls when everything else falls silent —
    it’s constant, it’s aggravating, and it overwhelms me more often than I’d like to admit.

    But music?
    Music has always been my calm.

    It’s the one constant that never demanded I make sense of myself.
    With every note, I could breathe again.
    Certain songs still hold the fingerprints of who I was the first time I heard them —
    I can feel the exact ache, the pulse, the quiet hope that hummed beneath my skin.
    Music has always been my way back to myself.

    Over the past twenty years, that love has stretched across oceans.
    I fell for Japan’s wistful melancholy,
    for Korea’s raw confessions,
    for China’s grace and discipline,
    and for the Philippines’ warmth and heart.
    I didn’t need to understand every word — I could feel them.
    Emotion translates without permission.

    What began as listening became belonging.
    These cultures gave me soundtracks for my healing,
    and languages that somehow spoke me fluently
    before I ever learned to translate them.

    This poem is my thank-you —
    a devotion to the music and the lands that shaped me.

    — Rowan Evans

    A dreamy illustration of a woman surrounded by glowing lanterns shaped like musical notes, each representing Asian cultures, as she stands in a sea of sound waves with her eyes closed in calm reflection.
    “Music is how I pray — across oceans, across languages, across lives.”

    Polyjamourous
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I am polyjamourous for music,
    polyamorous for culture—
    I love across language,
    love across oceans of distance.

    Japan whispers in my bones,
    Korea hums in my veins,
    China flows through my pulse,
    the Philippines lingers in my breath.
    Each a lantern in the corridors
    of my heart,
    each echo a thread of home
    woven into who I am.

    I am polyjamourous for music,
    polyamorous for culture—
    I love across language,
    love across distance.
    I bow to the lands
    that shaped me,
    even from a thousand miles away,
    even from a thousand lives away.

    And to them, I murmur—
    ありがとう,
    감사합니다,
    谢谢,
    salamat po,
    thank you—

    Each syllable, a soft flame,
    a quiet devotion
    carried across the world,
    across time,
    across the chambers of my soul.

    Soundtrack of My Heart

    The music that shaped me, that carried me through nights of stillness and storms of thought, is more than sound—it is devotion. Here are a few threads of that tapestry, songs that held me, lifted me, and made me feel home during my 20 years of listening to music across oceans:

    The GazettE – “Filth in the Beauty”
    The soundtrack to my 17-year-old chaos—every riff, every scream etched into memory. The GazettE taught me that beauty can thrive in filth. R.I.P. Reita.
    XG – “WOKE UP”
    A reminder of why I fell in love with K-Pop—the raw energy, the pulse, the feeling of waking fully alive in music. Language doesn’t matter; what hits the soul never needs translation. XG’s fire makes me feel every beat, every pulse, alive.
    By2 – “Don’t Go Away”
    I was 19 the first time this song became part of me—each note, each line a mirror for the ache and hope of that age. By2 showed me the power of longing, of holding on and letting go at once. Even now, it hits me right in the chest, a familiar heartbeat across time and distance.
    BINI – “Pantropiko”
    Instant sunshine—bright, unstoppable, impossible not to move to. Pantropiko reminds me that joy can be loud, colorful, unapologetic. Every time it plays, it lifts me, fills the room with warmth, and makes me feel fully alive in the moment.

    Each song is a lantern, each beat a heartbeat, each melody a language of the soul. Listen, feel, and know—my polyjamorous heart beats across these lands, and perhaps yours will, too.

  • Philippines Earthquake Relief: Standing in Solidarity from Afar

    Rowan Evans

    Across the Distance, My Heart Remains with the Philippines.

    A picture of the Philippines flag at half-mast.
    Philippine flag at half-mast – honoring those affected by recent disasters and standing in solidarity from afar.

    Through connections, friendships, and the lives of people who have touched mine, the Philippines has grown to mean so much to me—the people, the culture, the language. Each interaction has left a mark, each conversation a lesson, and every word of Tagalog I learn feels like a thread linking me closer to a place that has shaped my heart in ways I cannot fully explain.

    Hearing about the recent 6.9 magnitude earthquake that struck central regions, coming just days after the devastating storm, hits me hard. The grief, loss, and upheaval families and communities are enduring—it’s impossible not to feel it, even from across an ocean. The overlap of these tragedies makes it feel heavier, like the weight of two storms upon the same shoulders.

    If you feel moved to help, here are reputable organizations providing emergency relief and support:

    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 from an ocean away, I feel the weight of what has happened. My thoughts, prayers, and care go out to the people affected. I hope that in the midst of grief, hands find hands, hearts hold fast, and the sun rises again over the islands I love.

    Across the Water

    I feel your grief in every wave,
    Your sorrow carried through the night.
    Hands unseen reach to the brave,
    And hearts across the sea unite.

    Even in the rubble and rain,
    Even when the world feels torn,
    Love threads through the fear and pain,
    A spark that will not be forlorn.

  • Threads of Home I Never Touched: My Journey Through Asia’s Cultures and Music

    Rowan Evans

    An homage to the places, people, and music that shaped me

    A mashup of Tokyo, Manila, and Seoul cityscapes with floating musical notes representing cultural and musical inspiration.
    Asia has shaped me for over twenty years—through music, language, and the people I’ve met. This is a reflection on the connections that have inspired my life and poetry.

    Some places leave marks long before we ever set foot in them. My love for Japan began when I was fourteen, watching Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi for the first time. By fifteen, YouTube was a doorway into a world of music, culture, and imagination I had only glimpsed from afar. At sixteen, the GazettE’s Nil album arrived just after my birthday, and with it, a new intensity—a love for the artistry, the language, the heartbeat of Japanese culture—that has persisted for over twenty years.

    At eighteen, my journey with the Philippines began. I met two young girls, five years my junior, and they became like nieces to me. Watching them grow, witnessing their lives unfold, I took on a protective role, and in doing so, my admiration for the people and culture of the Philippines deepened. Around this same time, I met a girl who captivated my mind and heart. We became close quickly, drawn together by a shared intensity, yet our paths diverged. We wanted different things, and the connection, though brief, burned brightly, leaving a mark that kept my love for the Philippines alive in my heart.

    During these years, my fascination with Asia expanded. KPop introduced me to the vibrancy of Korea, its music and culture, while Chinese Pop offered another window into a world I was eager to understand, free from the narrow perspectives often presented around me. These interests were not casual—they were devotion, curiosity, and care, each note and lyric shaping the way I saw the world.

    Over time, my connections with people from the Philippines grew deeper, reigniting my love for the language, the culture, and the people who had first opened my eyes. And then I met my muse, the woman whose presence has inspired all of my love poems, whose influence brought the Philippines, its people, and its culture back to the forefront of my mind.

    Asia has been a part of my life for more than twenty years. It has shaped me in ways I struggle to explain—through music, language, friendships, and fleeting yet powerful connections. It has influenced how I see the world, how I feel, and how I write. I carry the warmth of these cultures, the lessons of these people, and the spark of inspiration they’ve left behind, wherever I go.

  • 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.

  • For a Moment, I Was Home

    Rowan Evans
    Nakauwi na ako.

    I was staying with the guy who offered me a place—a warm, open home in the Philippines. The morning was slow, soft. We just talked and laughed, getting to know each other better as the sun filtered through the window. I felt… weightless. For the first time in so long, my body didn’t ache. I didn’t need to hide inside my own skin.   
       
    Later that day, I met up with her at the mall. The woman that had inspired every single love poem I had written for the last year.   
       
    She was wearing a sundress, soft purple with white stripes. It matched her Nikes—white with hints of violet, like twilight folded into fabric. Her voice sounded like heaven, and her giggle—God, her giggle—made the whole world stop. The way she caught me looking at her, like she knew, and didn’t mind… like she liked it. The world faded every time she laughed. It was just us. No noise, no pain, no fear. Just us.   
       
    We wandered the shops. She lit up when we passed a shoe display. I noticed the way her eyes lingered, how her fingers brushed the pair she liked without touching the price tag. She didn’t need to ask. I bought them for her without hesitation. Not to impress her—but because I wanted to. Because she deserved to have things that made her smile like that.   
       
    Before the dream ended, I said something in Tagalog. I don’t remember the words, not fully. But I know what they meant:   
       
    “I’m home.”   
       
    And I was. For that brief, beautiful moment—I was whole. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t fighting my own thoughts. I wasn’t surviving. I was living.   
       
    I woke up with tears on my cheeks.   
       
    The sunlight in my real room was harsher—unfiltered, impatient. My knees screamed again. My back ached like it always does. The weight came rushing back, like gravity remembered me.   
       
    But even through the pain,   
    even through the disappointment of being pulled from that softness—   
    I smiled.   
       
    Because for a little while,   
    I knew what it was to live without hurting.   
    To breathe without breaking.   
    To love without fear.   
       
    And even if it was only a dream,   
    it’s mine now.   
    A secret I tuck into the folds of my ribs.   
    A memory from a place that maybe isn’t real,   
    but felt more real than anything else ever has.   
       
    And that… that’s enough to keep going.   
       
    At least for today.   
    At least for now.