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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: self-care

  • Survive — A Poetic Reflection on Anxiety, Panic, and Resilience by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    ✦ Author’s Note ✦

    This poem is both a confession and a mirror. It reflects the invisible battles so many of us fight while the world mistakes our survival for apathy. The italicized lines aren’t just quotes — they’re echoes of judgment, the voices that press in on anyone living with trauma, anxiety, or panic.

    Survive is my answer to them.
    Survival isn’t weakness; it’s a skill. It’s an art form. It’s a rebellion so quiet most people never hear it, but it exists in every single breath we take after thinking we couldn’t.

    If you’ve ever been made to feel “less than” for simply keeping yourself alive, this poem is for you.

    Illustration of a lone figure standing at the edge of a calm sea at dawn, symbolizing resilience and survival.
    “Every day I rise again. Survival is my quietest rebellion.” — Rowan Evans

    Survive
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I walk through a world
    that’s constantly judging,
    while I’m just trying to keep
    my head above the waves.
    I panic at the little things,
    the things you all take for granted.

    You get behind the wheel
    without a second thought,
    and for me, it causes pause
    because I remember the danger.
    The fact that everything
    is out of my control.

    I just want to be normal,
    I just want to be whole.
    But I’m fighting against my brain,
    I’m fighting against past pain
    and your judging stares.
    It’s okay, I know, nobody cares.

    “You don’t know how to cook.”
    “You don’t know how to drive.”

    I’m fighting these thoughts,
    just trying to stay alive.
    I’ve got anxiety with panic attacks,
    I can’t breathe when the panic attacks—
    so please, don’t look at me
    like I’m lazy, like I don’t want to learn.
    It hurts.
    I’m just trying to keep myself alive,
    I’m really just tryin’ to survive.

    But survival is not weakness.
    It’s the hardest art I know.
    Every day I rise again,
    and that, even if you never see it…
    is my quietest rebellion.

    If this piece resonates with you, check out more of my work in—The Library of Ashes.

  • Hot Coals: A Poetic Reflection on Anger, Vulnerability, and Courage

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    I wrote Hot Coals for the men who’ve been told that strength is silence, and that showing emotion makes you weak. As someone who has carried fire inside themselves for a long time, I know firsthand how heavy it can be to hold anger and pain alone. Holding it like hot coals doesn’t make you stronger—it only burns you from within. Vulnerability is not weakness. It is courage. And letting yourself feel, fully, is the bravest thing you can do.

    Hand holding glowing hot coals, symbolizing the burden of suppressed anger and emotional release.
    Holding anger like hot coals scars the heart. Hot Coals by Rowan Evans explores the courage in vulnerability and the liberation of letting go.

    Hot Coals
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    They tell you to clench your fists, hold tight—
    Let the fire burn bright, don’t let in the light.
    Anger, rage—your only currency,
    The world’s measure of your masculinity.

    But no one warned you of the burn,
    The searing pain you never learn,
    That holding anger like hot coals in hand
    Scars the heart in ways you can’t withstand.

    They say to stand tall, to never cry,
    Keep your voice low, don’t ask why.
    But the flames flicker and twist inside,
    A storm of feelings you try to hide.

    Each coal a bitter word unsaid,
    A wound you carry in your head.
    It singes, it smolders, beneath your skin,
    A quiet battle you’ll never win.

    Let go, I whisper, of this deadly fire—
    There’s more to feel, more to aspire.
    Rage will only leave you burned,
    A lesson you’ve yet to learn.

    There’s beauty in tears, in the gentle sigh,
    In love’s soft touch and the freedom to cry.
    To release the coals, let your heart unfold,
    Is the bravest thing, not a story untold.

    Feel the coolness of the rain on your face,
    The warmth of peace, of a softer grace.
    Embrace the spectrum, let it flow—
    You’re not just a vessel for anger’s glow.

    For holding on to fire won’t make you strong;
    It only burns, and for far too long.
    Set down the coals, let them fade to ash,
    And rise from the flames, free at last.

    If you’d like to explore more of my work, you can find it in The Library of Ashes.