The arts of losing, of disappearing

This poem by Naomi Shihab Nye is so remarkable for waking its readers up to the realities of a finite world, difficult choices, and the price that comes with not having any solitude:

It makes me think of another famous poem, One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop, which starts with the line "The art of losing..."

Of course, on a day when bombs went off in Boston, losing feels poignant in a different way, even if the loss is just another perceived loss of safety.

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