Posted by: Maria Atalanti

Published on: 15/11/2020

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I dedicate this poem to the memory of my father, Costas, who used to read this story to me and my sister as a bedtime story. Since then, I have been fascinated by the myth of this remarkable personality.


A strong lightning bolt tore the fabric of space-time.

Through the crevasse I saw Atalante running.

She was glowing, she was the wind, she was a vision….

Before the crevasse closed, I had time to see the golden apple that was rolling

from the hands of Hippomenes.

Then the crevasse closed.


Only, somewhere, the golden apple was shining dimly.

A sign that Atalante would surrender to love.

A sign that Aphrodite had won again.

And yet, Atalante did not run away from love.

Atalante was running away from submission.

The apple she had held in her hands

did not make her the property of Hippomenes,

it made her participant in knowledge.

The lightning struck again!

The crevasse had reopened.

Atalante ran non-stop and strode the universe.

Thousands of women were following her.

How much power radiated in their faces!

They were the women of Africa, Arabia,

millions of women running away from submission.

Suddenly, her face took the form of a lioness.

Her eyes widened, she roared loudly.

The women roared with her.

And the crevasse closed again.


Only the echo of the scream vibrated through the void.

A sign that Atalante has not yet been freed.

A sign that Atalante will continue to run…


If you want to read the relevant myth, you may follow the link below

Atalante the myth

Editing in English by Andreas Markides

The photo is taken from the Internet from the link below:

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