THE WRITTEN WORD
A collection of poems, prose and musings written by Emily Atkins over the past years
'Musings on matter'- made in response to the rotting paper left outdoors in 'Fragile Forms' project, 2020
Woven fibres of an undulating tool,
Slowly sinking into the sodden earth,
Rotting, curling, shrinking in the waning day.
Rough surface softening, relaxing into the ground.
Ants dance on the surface in a macabre dance,
Moisture collecting, hidden in the shadows of the dying form.
Fiber by fiber, piece by piece, gradually dissolving,
A secret imprisoned by a heavy stone,
Unnoticed and uncared for, silent.
Exposed to the tempers of the new day,
Retracting, retracing, internalising,
The remnants of actions,
Cutting, rotting, washing and dissolving.
Existing now only on the surface of a distant cousin, the memory plated in black ink,
A temporary existence, an ephemeral form.
Gone.
'Places where I feel free'- made in response to a walk in Glenshee, 2019
Get away from the city, the concrete blocks restricting movement, clipping my wings. I want to soar but I can only flutter.
Shifting, moving, restless energy.
I endlessly wander, stretching, walking, running, jumping and
finally
I am flying free.
The city fades away into the mist, dissolving to leave clean white clouds. The anxiety ebbs as the fences melt into the frosty landscape, leaving wide open spaces and a place
where I can
finally
breathe.
Freedom in each inhalation, liberty in each release. Bright blue skies soaring overhead. Undulating purity in the bright, cold sunshine.
Feeling insignificant and yet
giant,
no limitations.
Free.
Biting icy winds sweeping across the frozen desert. Flurries, shuffling through the snow, crunching the ground beneath our feet.
Sinking,
climbing,
breathing,
living.
Refreshing mist, a cool breeze. Nature’s remedy, human salvation. Away I fly into the hills, over the slopes, reaching for natures tangible liberty.
The freedom grows, the joy expands until it bursts out of me in a whirl of brilliant amazement.
Here is beauty.
Freedom.
Happiness.
The world is illuminated in blue and white. Clean, crisp lines.
Frozen.
Still.
The sunshine cuts through the fog of my mind, shattering the ambiguity and melting it away until the only thought remaining is this:
I belong here.
'Beinn a'Ghlò'- made in response to a hike on Beinn a'Ghlò, 2019
The clouds blanket the undulating hills, benign protectors against the biting wind which whistles past in a tuneless whirl.
Ice scatters across the solid ground, tracing the winds movements as it is shifted by an unseen hand.
Delicate layers of snow surround a line of broken fences, comforting the vulnerable markers in an icy embrace.
The soft snow crumbles, crunches and flattens, giving into our sure footsteps as we follow an invisible path across the frozen desert.
The fierce blue skies soar overhead, bold in their defiance.
Wild hares burst out from hidden warrens, racing towards the azure sky in a rapid bid for freedom.
A waterfall emerges from the ground, time slowing to the dripping of melting ice which drapes over the crevice in layers of frozen lace.
A stream gracefully forms from this delicate menagerie, peeking out from under the snow as timid as a child.
The watery infant gradually gathers a restless energy which pushes it out from under the cold white covers and into a softly illuminated world.
Powdery snow gradually fades into the muted camouflage of heather which emerges with quiet majesty.
The stream trickle grows into a gurgling current, washing away the lingering ice as it winds its way towards spring.
Stones stand silent and still in the swirling water, as solid and dependable as their ancestors sat behind.
The rugged guardians watch as the earth slowly awakens to the warm touch of the sunshine