A poem by Olivia Atkins

Chaotic routine that I’m swimming in,

Little relief; you’ve given up on me.

My hands are bound

Tied up with responsibilities

And nothing can scare me,

                                                                Bar myself.

I no longer expect you to ride in

On your white horse,

To swoop me off the ground.

I’m looking for new methods

To rescue myself.

I stand strong,

                Legs firmly apart, strident,

                Feeling into myself,

                Calm and alone,


You are the past,

                A previous iteration,

An idealized version I nostalgically remember.

What you know no longer exists,

You look at me but do not see.

You’ve imagined the apparition before you,

Eyes settling on the familiar outline

Yet the contents have mutated,

Evolved and grown

Beyond recognition.

But you are blind; ignorant

Of their progression.

Written by Olivia Atkins


Photography by: Natalia Atkins @natalia_atkins