I posted Elizabeth Bishop's One Art there, and said I would post my hommage to it here.
The art of leaving isn’t hard to master.
We leave without noticing the intent—
that moment past, your house today—no matter.
Leave behind all you can. You won't have to dust your
broken plate, the vase you hate, a book you lent
but never got back. Leave a little faster.
Let go of older things like fear of failure,
and all the people and things that you resent.
Leave the sad debris of family disaster.
I leave behind, without regret, this past year
and things that in my psyche left a dent.
Although leaving these is harder to master.
I left the country of my birth, and my father.
Other things left me; wealth and friends all went.
I miss them but it’s not a national disaster.
And leaving you, should it come to pass, your
form, your voice (I love), your scent
though it will feel like the worst disaster,
if I must, then even this, I can learn to master.