Atlas Alone

Atlas Alone is a painting by artist Ceri Powers. The painting is of Atlas, muscular and strong, yet weighed down by a large, geometric wire orb. In the background are tall, snow-covered mountains and blue skies; rolling green foothills approach the foreground behind him. In the foreground is a field of grasses, and wild-flowers and shades of green and auburn dominate it.

The painting called me as soon as I saw it. There was something about how he was carrying the weight of the cage-like orb in his arms, and the way the mountains were so perfectly entrapped within the cage that I connected with. Under the name of the painting, Ceri had written the words: "There is beauty in our burdens."

I reserved the painting to write ekphrastic poetry on, and had a few email exchanges with Ceri. My poem is also called "Atlas Alone":

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ATLAS ALONE
inspired by "Atlas Alone" by Ceri Powers

Atlas holds up worlds of everything ever experienced,
dreamt, or imagined. Burdened muscles honed
by ages at the task, calloused knee pressing into
cold stone rooted deep in the Earth. Atlas bears
a firmament of everything. Atlas alone.

With eyes closed, I hold up the weight of all my burdens:
Pain—as it burns its bright path through my life to the end;
Shame—with its whispers in my ear; Despair—that gently folds
long fingers tight around me; Anger—relentless, bitter bile
and dark globules of tears. Bent into a motionless crouch,
I wait alone. Eyes closed; I dream my big dreams.

Atlas holds up a world of longings caught in a cage like
birds. Distant, beautiful, insurmountable mountains of wants
stand proud, framed and trapped in an ornate decoration.

Yet, Atlas Sees. Bright skies, wildflowers, trees;
rolling hills, and vibrant colors: reds, yellows and greens;
sweet scents of earth and life; sounds in the breeze.
Atlas bears burdens, but knows to seek joy and peace.

Eyes open I See, as Atlas, beauty past the burdens I bear—
there, in the laughter of my children; there, in
the arms of my love; there, in the art and the books
strewn about my room; there, in the voices of friends;
There, in poetry. There.