This poem has been weighing on my mind for the past one week. For no reason, yet, for some reason.
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.
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
I wonder if ‘losing’ really does get easier...
When I saw the movie AND read the book, I liked the poem quite a bit. But it takes a melancholic mood to really, really, feel it I suppose. The other poem in the book is also beautiful. On reflection, not so much for the words, more for the moment where one sister reads it for the other. And for all that the moment signifies.
I carry your heart with me, by EE cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Such sombre thoughts for a Friday night! On more mortal affairs, my trip has been extended by a week. So, lots of options for the weekend – Mcritchie reservoir, may be the ECP... or may be just blogging and reading. Will have to wait and see what the morning brings.
PS: The book is ‘In her shoes’ – not brilliant, but definitely a favourite.