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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: self-reflection

  • Reading the Sky | A Poem About Depression, Healing, and Emotional Cycles

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    People sometimes talk about depression like it’s constant sadness.

    For me, it’s rarely that simple.

    Sometimes it’s pressure. Sometimes it’s exhaustion. Sometimes it’s numbness so quiet you don’t notice how deep you’ve sunk until something shifts and suddenly you can breathe again.

    That’s where this piece came from.

    Not from a dramatic breakthrough— just a morning where the weight felt lighter.

    And when you’ve carried storms inside yourself for long enough, even small moments of relief can feel almost unreal.

    But one of the hardest things to learn about living with depression is this:

    good days don’t erase bad ones, and bad days don’t erase good ones.

    The storm passing doesn’t mean it’ll never return.

    It means you survived it long enough to recognize clear skies when they arrive.

    That’s what Reading the Sky became about for me.

    Not curing the storm. Not defeating it.

    Just learning its patterns. Learning when the pressure shifts. Learning how to keep breathing through both the thunder and the quiet afterward.

    And maybe most importantly—

    allowing yourself to enjoy the clean air when it finally comes.

    — Rowan Evans

    A solitary person stands beneath clearing storm clouds as sunlight begins breaking through the sky after rain.
    Some victories are simply learning how to breathe again after the storm passes.

    Reading the Sky
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I woke today
    feeling different—

    like everything
    had changed,
    in an instant.

    Like the storm inside
    had finally gone silent.
    The winds had died,
    but I was alive.

    Smile on my face—
    for the first time,
    didn’t feel out of place.

    I could still see
    lightning on the edges
    of my perception—
    feel the rumble
    of thunder
    in my chest.

    It was softer now.

    This storm had passed,
    but another
    would surely come.

    It’s a cycle—

    and these things
    have a season.

    The storms?

    They come
    and go.

    That’ll never change.

    It’s learning
    to read the sky,
    to feel
    when the pressure shifts.

    Now let me say this plain…

    I’ve got depression.

    It lives in my chest,
    waiting to teach me lessons.

    It’s a storm
    I’ve weathered—

    more than
    any one person should.

    That’s what makes
    days like these—
    feel like the cleanest air
    I’ve ever breathed.

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

  • Finish What You Started – A Poem About Transformation, Shadows, and Rebirth

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Some versions of yourself do not disappear quietly.

    Even after you’ve changed, even after you’ve tried to move forward, there are still old names, old mistakes, old selves that follow behind you like shadows.

    This piece came from thinking about transformation—not as a clean rebirth, but as something heavier.

    Something witnessed.

    The ravens in this poem aren’t meant to be enemies. They’re observers. Keepers of memory. Symbols of the parts of ourselves we can’t fully erase, no matter how badly we want to leave them behind.

    And the fire isn’t destruction alone.

    It’s momentum.

    Because sometimes growth doesn’t happen when you escape the past.

    Sometimes it happens when you finally walk through it.

    — Rowan Evans

    Figure walking through burning temple ruins beneath watching ravens
    The only way out is through.

    Finish What You Started
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Strike the match
    and light the flame—

    watch the past
    decay and end.

    I walk through temples
    while the ravens watch me.

    I feel their eyes upon me,
    following—

    every movement
    traced.

    They tally every sin I’ve carried,
    every name I’ve buried,
    every version of myself
    I tried to outgrow.

    They know the weight
    I drag behind me,
    the shadows I pretend
    I’ve already outrun.

    The flame behind me grows,
    licking at the stone,
    urging me forward—

    a reminder
    that the only way out
    is through.

    The ravens
    do not warn me back.

    They only tilt their heads,
    as if to say—

    go on…

    finish
    what you started.

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    Previous:
    [The Shadow and the Spark]
    A psychologically charged free verse poem using Mortal Kombat imagery to explore anxiety, depression, identity, and the realization that survival matters more than victory.

    [East Knows My Name]
    A deeply introspective poem about emotional displacement, cultural disconnect, and feeling spiritually drawn toward a place far from where you were born.

    [Out of Sync]
    A reflective free verse poem about emotional displacement, shifting sleep cycles, and feeling spiritually drawn toward another side of the world.

    Upcoming:
    [Altars and Roses]
    A gothic free verse poem about poetic identity, recurring symbolism, devotion, and the quiet humanity beneath dramatic imagery.

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

  • When the Devil Speaks, I Listen – A Poem About Inner Voice and Self-Reflection

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece started with a simple idea—listening to something you’re told to ignore.

    But the more I sat with it, the less it felt like something external.

    There’s a voice you develop after spending enough time with your own thoughts. One that understands where you’ve been, what you’ve survived, and what you’ve learned to carry.

    It doesn’t filter itself the way you do.

    It doesn’t soften the truth.

    And that’s what makes it uncomfortable.

    We’re taught to silence that voice. To treat it like something separate, something dangerous.

    But sometimes, it’s not the enemy.

    Sometimes, it’s just you—without hesitation.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person writing in dim light with a shadow reflection symbolizing inner thoughts and darker self
    Some voices don’t lie. That’s why they’re hard to hear.

    When the Devil Speaks, I Listen
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I listen—
    when the devil talks,
    because he knows
    the paths I’ve walked.

    I’ve slept
    where shadows crept,
    made my bed in crypts.

    I’ve walked through rooms
    that felt like tombs—
    bled ink on pages,
    translated hurt
    into words.

    I listen
    when the devil talks,

    because I recognize
    he’s walked
    the same paths I’ve walked.

    He’s seen the places
    I’ve laid my head,
    the crypts
    I made home.

    He’s read the pages—
    stained
    with crimson ink.

    So yes—
    I listen,

    because I recognize
    the voice
    sounds like mine—
    just older,
    and less afraid to say it.

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

  • Of No Single Nation – A Poem About Identity, Belonging, and Life Beyond Borders

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    I’ve never felt fully defined by where I’m from.

    Not in a rejection of place—but in a quiet understanding that identity doesn’t always root itself in geography. That sometimes, belonging isn’t tied to land, language, or nationality… but to connection.

    To the people who make you feel understood. To the moments where distance doesn’t matter as much as recognition.

    This piece comes from that perspective.

    From existing in between—carrying pieces of different cultures, different influences, different ways of seeing the world, without feeling the need to choose just one.

    Not unrooted.

    Just… rooted differently.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing between blended landscapes with fading borders symbolizing identity beyond nations.
    Some people aren’t rooted in places—they’re rooted in connection.

    Of No Single Nation
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I am of global mind—
    I claim no nation as mine.

    My empathy stretches
    beyond borders,
    past the fences people build
    to feel safe.

    Because I learned early
    that home is not a place
    you inherit.

    It’s something you find
    in the people
    who make your chest
    feel less heavy.

    I was never meant
    to fit inside a flag.

    My heart speaks
    in borrowed languages,
    my belonging scattered
    across timelines
    and skylines
    I haven’t touched yet.

    I will continue
    reaching for anyone
    who feels unrooted,
    unclaimed,
    unbelonging.

    Maybe that’s why
    I recognize myself
    in strangers
    more than in the soil
    I was born on.

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

  • Lost the Plot | A Poem About Identity, Control, and Rewritten Stories

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    There’s a strange kind of disorientation that comes from feeling like your life should make sense… but doesn’t.

    Like you missed a chapter.
    Or something important got cut before you ever had the chance to understand it.

    Lost the Plot leans into that feeling–but not just on a personal level. It questions what happens when the narrative itself isn’t entirely yours. When the direction shifts, not because it should… but because something behind the scenes decided it needed to.

    We’re often told that confusion is internal.
    That if we feel lost, it’s something we need to fix within ourselves.

    But what if part of that feeling comes from the story constantly being rewritten?
    From forces we don’t see, shaping outcomes we’re expected to accept?

    This piece sits in that space–between personal disconnection and a growing awareness the “plot” might not be as natural as it seems.

    Sometimes it’s not that you lost your way.

    Sometimes… the story changed without you.

    — Rowan Evans

    Person standing on a broken film set with scattered reels and a looming studio above, symbolizing loss of identity and control
    What happens when the story isn’t yours anymore?

    Lost the Plot
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’ve been
    getting lost a lot lately.

    Like I’ve forgotten
    who I was,
    who I am—
    who I was becoming.

    I’m feeling like
    I’ve lost the plot,
    like the studio
    lost the reel
    that we shot.

    No longer
    can I see
    where I began.

    We got cancelled
    before we
    got going.

    We never saw an end.

    But we weren’t
    cancelled because of
    interest.

    We were cancelled
    because the studio
    got scared.

    Ratings were good.
    The audience cared.

    But they cared too much.

    It was causing
    connection,
    so the studio
    had to change
    direction.

    The studio,
    needs the divide—
    keeps people
    scared and wide-eyed.

    So there’s always
    someone—
    to point to,
    to name as the bad guy.

    The boogeyman.

    So we look to the stars,
    as if they could solve
    the problems.

    As if it wasn’t
    the studio—
    the writer’s room
    behind every decision.

    It was them—

    in the writer’s room,
    rewriting endings
    we never got to reach.

    Ratings be damned.

    The show goes on—

    we just don’t
    exist in it anymore.

    Journey into the Hexverse!

    [Another Fire]
    A powerful poem exploring global chaos, systemic inequality, and emotional exhaustion in a world where conflict grows faster than it can be understood.

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

  • Standing Between Us | Identity & Love Poem

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece lives in a space between two interpretations, and I wrote it that way on purpose.

    It can be read as a reflection on identity–on the versions of ourselves we carry, the ones we’ve been, and ones we hesitate to become. A room filled with selves, each one shaped by different choices, different fears, different moments of almost.

    But it can also be read as something more relational. The figure in the piece–“her”–can exist as a person. Someone who feels steady, certain, present in a way the speaker isn’t yet. Someone who becomes a point of gravity.

    What matters to me is that the distance between them comes from the same place in both readings.

    Not circumstance.

    Not timing.

    But hesitation.

    In that way, the poem sits in the overlap between becoming and connection–where reaching someone else and becoming yourself start to feel like the same act.

    — Rowan Evans

    Multiple versions of a person standing in a dim surreal room with a distant glowing figure symbolizing identity and connection
    A room full of who I was, who I am, and who I haven’t learned to be yet.

    Standing Between Us
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I walk into a room
    that knows my name too well.

    It is filled with me—
    not reflections,
    not mirrors—
    but selves.

    They stand where I once stood,
    breathe how I used to breathe,
    hold their hands like I remember doing
    before I knew why.

    Some look at me.
    Most don’t.

    They are not ghosts—
    not quite.
    I cannot see through them.
    They have weight.
    Presence.
    Like memories
    that never learned how to fade.

    I move through them anyway.

    Shoulder brushing shoulder—
    past brushing present—
    future turning its head
    just a second too late.

    And then—

    her.

    Not fully seen.
    Never fully seen.

    A glimpse
    between the space
    of two mistakes,
    I used to make.

    A flicker
    caught in the outline
    of who I used to be
    and who I might become.

    I follow.

    Or maybe I orbit.

    Because every time I get close,
    another version of me steps in the way—
    hesitation given form,
    fear with a body,
    longing wearing my face.

    I want to call out—
    but which voice is mine?

    They all sound like me.

    So I keep moving.

    Through regret.
    Through almosts.
    Through the selves that loved—
    too early,
    too late…

    too quietly.

    And still—
    I see her.

    Soft.
    Certain.
    Waiting in the space
    I haven’t learned to stand in yet.

    I think—

    no.

    I know.

    She is not lost in this room.

    I am.

    And every version of me
    that I refuse to become
    is standing between us.

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

  • Same Sky – A Poem About Distance, Longing, and Connection

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Same Sky sits in the space between distance and closeness.

    It’s about the kind of connection that feels real, even when it isn’t physically present. The kind that inspires growth, while also bringing fear to the surface.

    There’s a vulnerability in wanting someone–not just near you, but in your world. In admitting that their presence matters, even without defining what that presence is.

    At its core, this piece isn’t about certainty.

    It’s about longing.

    The quiet, persistent kind–
    that simply wants someone here.

    — Rowan Evans

    Two people far apart looking up at the same star-filled sky, symbolizing longing and connection
    Different places. Same sky.

    Same Sky
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Don’t take it personally,
    when I retreat—
    disappear inside of me.
    I’m reflecting—
    is this something
    I need protecting from?

    These feelings
    that I’m feeling,
    they scare me.

    It’s terrifying,
    sometimes—
    the way you
    make me feel.

    The way I want to change myself,
    not because you asked me to—
    because you inspire me,
    to be better than I was
    the day before.

    So I look to the heavens
    with feet planted,
    connected to the surface
    of the planet.
    Feet, the roots,
    grounding me.

    Even if I don’t feel
    rooted to the ground
    beneath.

    Eyes on the stars,
    mapping scars
    traced from afar.

    Ocean’s edge,
    is the reminder
    of the—

    Through the waves,
    I’d swim.

    I’d leave behind
    my life and everything
    I’ve ever known.

    It’s an internal insistence,
    to close the distance.
    A longing to stand under
    the same stars,
    in the same sky
    on the same night.

    To be able to look over,
    to know you’re near.
    Friend or more,
    I don’t care.

    I just…

    I want you there.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)

    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)

    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

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

  • Bad Habit – A Poem About Mental Loops and Self-Awareness

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    The mind has a way of repeating itself.

    Patterns, thoughts, loops–they can feel inescapable, like walking through the same place over and over again, no matter how far you think you’ve gone.

    Bad Habit is about recognizing those patterns in real time. Not after the fact, not with clarity or distance–but while you’re still standing inside them.

    It’s the moment of awareness.

    And the quiet decision to not disappear into it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person walking through a repeating or mirrored space, symbolizing mental loops and overthinking
    Some patterns don’t break—they repeat.

    Bad Habit
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel like I’m running in place,
    my feet move but I go nowhere.
    Terrain’s all the same,
    it never changes.

    All the trees
    in the same place.
    All the people
    with the same face.

    Dreams, perhaps—
    or maybe a nightmare?
    My mind,
    it doesn’t fight fair.

    So I’m stuck here.
    Wandering,
    lost in my mind—
    pondering,
    you know I have questions.

    I was just wondering—
    if I reached my hand out,
    would you grab it?
    Pull me back
    from this static?

    I know it’s not you
    that I’m talking to,
    but my brain
    paints you so vivid.
    So I let myself take time,
    I let myself live it.

    It’s all inside my mind,
    dreams, perhaps
    or maybe nightmare.

    Maybe it pulls me in,
    and wants to keep me there.
    Like a ghost of despair,
    trying to get me to—
    disappear.

    But I’m not going
    anywhere.
    Once I’ve climbed
    out of my mind,
    and back into the world.

    Back into myself,
    into clear mental health.
    No more fog,
    no more static.
    No more feeling
    like my life is tragic.

    Another bad habit.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)

    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)

    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • When I Started to Fall for You – A Poem About Deep Love

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece is about the kind of love that reshapes your internal world.

    Not suddenly, all at once–but gradually, in the quiet moments. In the way someone becomes part of your thoughts without effort. In the way their presence lingers, even in their absence.

    It explores the beauty and intensity of that feeling–how it can comfort, overwhelm, and transform all at the same time.

    To fall for someone is to risk change.
    To embrace it is to accept that you won’t be the same after.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person watching a sunrise, representing love, warmth, and emotional connection
    Love doesn’t arrive all at once—it unfolds.

    When I Started to Fall for You
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When I started to fall for you,
    the world shifted and swayed.
    You became the dawn’s first whisper,
    the sun’s embrace at play.
    From the moment I awaken,
    your name graces my lips.
    in the quiet of the morning,
    where dreams and daylight eclipse.

    You became my sole obsession,
    my every thought unfurled.
    The last flicker of my mind,
    as night wraps up the world.
    Each heartbeat echoes your laughter,
    a melody so sweet,
    a symphony of silence
    that pulls me from my seat.

    In the shadows of my longing,
    your essence fills the air,
    I’ll learn your hidden stories—
    every secret that you bear.
    With every shared confession,
    I’ve mapped the stars in your eyes.
    Crafting constellations of love,
    beneath the velvet skies.

    To see your smile is magic,
    a light that ignites my soul—
    a balm for all my scars,
    it makes my weary heart whole.
    Your voice is the thunder,
    soothing storms that rage within.
    A gentle force of nature,
    calming the chaos
    with your skin.

    Your presence is a sanctuary,
    a refuge from my fears.
    In your arms,
    I’ve found my shelter—
    a harbor for my tears.
    When shadows stretched and whispered,
    and weariness took its toll.
    You were the hearth of comfort,
    where I could rest my soul.

    When I started to fall for you—
    I let the world fade away
    with every fleeting moment,
    I’ve cherished what you say.
    For in the depths of falling—
    I find a truth so rare…

    my heart will always wander,
    but with you—it finds its lair.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)

    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)

    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)

    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [No Parachute] (3/23)

    A poetic reflection on falling in love without hesitation—raw, uncertain, and without a safety net.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)

    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)

    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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

  • No Parachute – A Poem About Falling in Love Without Fear

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the things we feel the most deeply are the hardest to say plainly.

    So we dress them up–in metaphor, in rhythm, in repetition. We circle the meaning instead of stating it directly, hoping it will be understood without needing to be exposed.

    This piece pulls back from that, just a little.

    At its core, it’s about falling–without certainty, without safety nets, without knowing how it will end. Just the quiet realization that the fall has already begun.

    And choosing not to stop it.

    — Rowan Evans

    A person falling through the sky without a parachute, symbolizing emotional risk and vulnerability
    Some falls are chosen.

    No Parachute
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Sometimes—
    I have so much
    I want to say.

    So I spell it out,
    in metaphor—
    and similes
    of different shades.

    I take plain,
    make it less obvious.
    I’ve said this
    a thousand times,
    in a thousand rhymes,
    across a thousand lines.

    A moth to flame,
    me and it—
    one and the same,
    but my flame
    is your name.

    1-4-3,
    that’s code
    I’ve used before.

    But I mean it…
    I really do.

    it’s true—
    I tripped,
    and fell for you.

    Free fall.
    No parachute.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [To Whom It May Concern…] (3/20)
    A raw exploration of vulnerability, fear, and self-sabotage—this poem captures the struggle between wanting to be seen and the instinct to hide.

    [Weathered] (3/21)
    A deeply introspective poem about confronting fear, breaking patterns, and choosing to stand in the storm instead of running from it.

    [Same Room (Emotionally)] (3/22)
    Can you miss someone you’ve never met? This poem explores emotional connection beyond physical distance and what it means to truly feel seen.

    [When I Started to Fall for You] (3/24)
    A lyrical exploration of love’s intensity—how connection grows, transforms, and reshapes the way we experience the world.

    [Bad Habit] (3/25)
    A powerful reflection on repetitive thought patterns, emotional loops, and the moment of realizing you’re stuck inside your own mind.

    [Same Sky] (3/26)
    A poetic meditation on longing, distance, and the quiet desire to share the same space—even when worlds apart.

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