someone I was corresponding with on here in the autumn turned me on to this villanelle. it sort of stuck with me, in all of its bittersweet glory--as one none too keen on loss. ::rather recently, I let go a 10-year friendship. I didn't want to let it go, despite its increasingly caustic nature. my friend didn't want friends anymore--it was boiling down to the fact that she neither wanted to rely on anyone nor have them rely on her. she became mean. and medicated. the antics of my "life" + lack of a "real" job served to annoy her to no end. ::letting go, I realized how much energy I was putting into maintaining a sinking craft. I realize how I am opening up to new friendships + collaborations on creative projects. no, 'twas no disaster, but of our good times, I miss the laughter.
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.
"one art," elizabeth.bishop
heartless (1997), john.currin
No comments:
Post a Comment