Loss

One Art

Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop, “One Art” from The Complete Poems 1926-1979.

 Copyright © 1979, 1983

I love the way these two poets present the universal experience of dealing with loss.
Neither melodramatic, but I think quite interesting in their approach.


Still Life with a Balloon

Wislawa Szymborska

Returning memories?

No, at the time of death

I’d like to see lost objects

return instead.

Avalanches of gloves,

coats, suitcases, umbrellas

come, and I’ll say at last:

what good’s all this?

Safety pins, two odd combs,

a paper rose, a knife,

some string — come, and I’ll say

at last: I haven’t missed you.

Please turn up, key, come out,

wherever you’ve been hiding,

in time for me to say

You’ve gotten rusty, friend!

Downpours of affidavits,

permits and questionnaires,

rain down and I will say:

I see the sun behind you.

My watch, dropped in a river,

bob up and let me seize you —

then, face to face, I’ll say:

Your so-called time is up.

And lastly, toy balloon

once kidnapped by the wind—

come home, and I will say:

there are no children here.

Fly out the open window

and into the wide world;

let someone else shout “Look!”

and I will cry.