The Art of Losing

Maybe it's my age, or living far away from my family, but so far 2009 is making me think of all the people who I used to be close to who I now no longer speak to-- either because we fought, broke up or just drifted apart or now find that we live on different continents with a 9-hour time difference and never skype at the same time. If you're anything like me (for your sake, I hope not, though!), ex-best friends from college, people you've dated, former housemates in multiple cities, etc. have been floating through your head yesterday and today.

But before you worry too much about all the people you once knew who you've since lost, keep in mind that you'll (hopefully, most likely) acquire new friends this year and it's an endless cycle, some kind of social flux that we can't really entirely control.

Here's a funny poem that I've always liked to try to help exorcise all these missing, forgotten souls who we've lost over the years. Here is Elisabeth Bishop's attempt to master the art of losing and even if it's actually a fairly tragic poem, it's certainly an example of mastering the art of writing a villanelle, one of the hardest poetic forms out there.

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 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.