Nice poem. Again that false bravado thing, nah... i don't care, it doesn't bother me, as i said earlier somewhere it can be endearing if done right, too much and you just look like an idiot in denial.
wait, i have actually even liked idiots in denial. wonder why? oh, i know. coz on occasion i have been both of those - a complete idiot and in complete denial. :D
ONE ART by 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 like this part especially:
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.
1 comment:
Here's my take on the topic of the art of losing. Intellectually, it seems reasonable to think that loosing somethings would be a disaster - like loosing a loved one, or loosing one's home, or loosing one's innocence by being a victim of a myriad of evil and cruel possibilities brought about by other humans or even amoral/indifferent natural phenomena. But human beings I think have been wired (or evolved) to deal with losses - otherwise we would just be an army of traumatised, paralyzed zombies. When bad things happen, and we happen to survive it still breathing and alive, we have no choice but to move on and work with whatever we have left. People die everyday, yet the world goes on. It's unbelievable at some level that a person who once existed is no more. And perhaps there is where our coping mechanism kicks in - it's denial. Deep down inside, we don't really accept that we have lost anything at all. We believe that people who have died are in heaven, are still watching over us, or still here in spirit somehow. We have no proof of this, but it's how we reconcile the devastating truth with a resumption of our normal lives. The knowlegde that everything will eventually be lost, youth, health, and of-course our very lives, makes every moment all the more mystical, precious and valuable.
-Tania
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