“Regrets, I had a few, but then again too few to mention . . .”
~ Line from My Way, song composed by Paul Anka
It’s been said that the four saddest words are: “It should have been.” Regret about how we wished we had lived, how he should have spent our time, money and energy, seems to be a fundamental human trait, a weakness borne by inattention, neglect, procrastination, self-centredness and aversion to experimentation. How to overcome it is the stuff of motivational talks and self-help books. Or we can turn to poetry, allowing the beauty of words prick us and move us into action. Today, I like to share a number of poems on regret, including three me, written in rare moments of reflections over my own failings and missed opportunities. Hope they will remind us to live as fully as we can, that our time on this earth is finite.
The Poetry of Regret
The crisp mists rise
And my heart falls a-sighing,—
Sighing, sighing
That the sweet time dies!
~ Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
A Song of Regret
***
The songs I have not sung to you
Will wake me in the night
And hover in the dark like birds
Whose wings are tipped with light.
Like birds with restless, eager wings
That quiver for their flight,
The songs I have not sung to you
Will wake me in the night.
~ Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
***
The next poem is a poignant piece by Brad Aaron Modlin that captures the essence of regret and doubt through the lens of childhood memories. The speaker recounts various moments and experiences that he missed, highlighting the regret of not being present to witness those formative events.
Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen
to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,
how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took
questions on how not to feel lost in the dark
After lunch she distributed worksheets
that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s
voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep
without feeling you had forgotten to do something else—
something important—and how to believe
the house you wake in is your home.
~ What You Missed That Day You Were Absent from Fourth Grade
by Brad Aaron Modlin
***
Below are three short poems I wrote on regret.
Young we had dreams
in colors that endlessly thrilled us.
Old, they’re like faded clothes
hung in a wardrobe, kept
and never worn.
***
No songs today –
and I realized that
I’ve not sung
for fifty summers.
***
Look at us,
walking from the day’s soaring,
strangers to ourselves,
our empty hands
reaching for the door
of silence. But the voice
kept saying, not too late!
The precious things remain
precious, remain lovable.
though we must first learn
to love ourselves.
