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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: self discovery poetry

  • Where the Tide Calls Me – A Poem About Letting Go, Belonging, and Following Your Path

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a difference between feeling stuck… and being somewhere you were never meant to stay.

    For a long time, I couldn’t tell which one I was experiencing.

    It felt like I was standing still—like something in my life wasn’t moving forward, like I was waiting for a shift that never came. But the more I sat with that feeling, the more it started to change.

    It stopped feeling like stillness.

    And started feeling like resistance.

    This piece comes from that realization.

    That sometimes the discomfort isn’t because you’re lost—
    it’s because something in you is trying to move, and you haven’t let it yet.

    Not every path is meant to be walked on solid ground.

    Some of them ask you to trust the pull…
    and step into something uncertain.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person walking into the ocean at sunset symbolizing following a personal path and embracing change.
    Some of us aren’t meant to stay on land—we’re meant to follow the tide wherever it leads.

    Where the Tide Calls Me
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Do you ever feel stuck?
    Like you could stand on the ledge,
    overlooking everything
    and just scream—

    Do you ever feel
    you’re all out of luck?
    No matter how hard you try,
    it’s still a struggle to get by.

    Like the shores
    you walk,
    were never your own.

    The waves would talk,
    whispering of home.
    A land far away
    from where I was born.

    The world keeps saying
    this is where I belong,
    but the sea says otherwise.

    So I—
    wade into the waves,
    praying for better days,
    searching for a new place.

    Eyes focused.

    Ears turned
    and listening.

    I used to feel stuck—
    like the ledge was the only place
    I could breathe.

    But now,
    with the water rising around my feet,
    I finally understand:

    I was never meant
    to stand above the world
    and scream.

    I was meant
    to follow the tide.

    I walk deeper,
    letting the water rise—
    because some of us
    aren’t called
    to stay on land.

    And when the waves call—
    I answer.

    Not with fear,
    not with doubt,
    but with the quiet certainty
    that home
    is not where I started…

    but where the tide
    is pulling me.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [I Was Already On My Way]
    What if the places that call to you aren’t random? I Was Already On My Way explores identity, travel, and the realization that some paths have been forming long before we recognize them.

    [121° East]
    A single line of longitude becomes something more—a reflection of distance, identity, and the quiet decision to become who you were always meant to be.

    [The Quiet Inside the Noise]
    What happens when a restless mind finally quiets—not by silence, but by focusing on one person? The Quiet Inside the Noise explores love, fixation, and finding calm in connection.

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

  • 121° East – A Poem About Distance, Identity, and Becoming

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece started with a number.

    Something simple. Something I never thought twice about.

    But the more I sat with it, the more it started to feel like more than just geography.

    Longitude isn’t just distance–it’s alignment. Points that exist separately, but mirror each other across the curve of the world.

    This poem explores that idea.

    Not just of going somewhere…
    but of becoming someone.

    Because sometimes the hardest distance to cross
    isn’t measured in miles or degrees–

    it’s the space between who you are
    and who you’re ready to be.

    And maybe that moment–
    that decision to move, to follow the bull instead of resisting it–

    that’s the real crossing.

    Not the ocean.

    Not the world.

    But the line you’ve been standing on for longer than you realized.

    — Rowan Evans

    A glowing 121° East longitude line across a world map with a figure looking toward a distant light over the ocean.
    Some distances aren’t measured in miles—but in who you’re becoming.

    121° East
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Who knew 121°
    from West to East
    would hold so much
    meaning for me?

    It’s the trajectory
    of a moth in flight—
    crossing ocean waves
    in search of flames.

    Two points on a spinning globe
    reflecting each other—
    like halves of a compass
    waiting to align.

    But first,
    I’ve got to cross
    that line—

    the Prime Meridian.

    Maybe crossing that line
    isn’t about travel—
    maybe it’s the moment
    I stop standing still,
    and let myself become
    the person I’ve been orbiting.

    A moth doesn’t question
    why the flame feels familiar—
    it just flies,
    trusting the pull
    more than the dark behind it.

    And maybe the flame
    was never a place at all—
    just a warmth I recognized
    from a distance,
    calling me home
    in a language not my own.

    That’s the hardest part—
    not the distance,
    not the oceans,
    but stepping past the version of myself
    that never thought I’d move.

    The world curves gently
    between here and there—
    a quiet arc of possibility
    I trace with my thumb
    every time I look at a map.

    Every longitude has a twin—
    a shadow line
    humming on the far side of the world,
    waiting for the moment
    I decide to follow it.

    Funny how a number
    I never cared about
    suddenly feels like prophecy—
    like the universe slipped me
    a cosmic inside joke…

    and I’m only now getting it.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    And maybe direction is only the beginning… [Low Hum] (04/12)

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