Poem of the week: One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

It’s a funny thing, how resilient the really fundamental parts of your identity turn out to be. You can choose to define yourself by anything, be it work, nationality, faith, your relationships or your possessions. And yet, if by some accident or misstep it is all stripped away – there, still, you stand. Still the same person; still the same identity. And you’re left to wonder, how did that trivial thing ever define me at all?

Each of us has many layers of roles and attributes, things that seem to add together to make us who we are. But we are, each of us, so much greater than the sum of our parts. Underneath all of those layers lies something not so easily put into words: our self. And no matter what we may lose along the way, be it keys or a continent, our own self will still be there, unlosable, changing and yet ultimately changeless.

Learning to let go, which is what this poem by Elizabeth Bishop is all about, is the first step to discovering who you are beneath the perfect house, or the job, or the tortured relationship, or whatever else it may be that has dominated your self-image. These things are not you, and however much you might care about them in the short term, you can – and you will – survive without them.

In fact, the more certain we are that we can’t tolerate losing something, that we would not be yourself without it, the greater the uncertainties it is likely to be masking. And it is these uncertainties, deep within ourselves, which offer us the greatest insights into who we are, and why we do what we do. However great the disaster, however great the loss, there is insight to be gained from it. And remember: it is only through practice that we can learn the art of losing gracefully.

From The Poetry Pharmacy Returns by William Sieghart

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.

"One Art" is in Poems by Elizabeth Bishop, published by Chatto & Windus. To order a copy call 0844 871 1514 or visit the Telegraph Bookshop