Possibilities ~ A Poem by Wislawa Szymborska

The Power of Small Preferences

Szymborska’s poem reminds us that the smallest preferences can reveal the biggest truths about who we are and how we experience the world.

Possibilities

Wislawa Szymborska

I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven’t mentioned here
to many things I’ve also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.

Reflection

Szymborska’s poem reminds us that life is built from small, sincere preferences — the quiet choices that reveal who we really are. Each “I prefer” is a gentle rebellion against the pressure to fit into the world’s expectations. She chooses authenticity over perfection, curiosity over certainty, and the rich unpredictability of life over rigid order. Her preferences become a map of a soul awake to wonder, contradiction, and possibility. By honoring the everyday — cats, oaks, poems, desk drawers — she invites us to notice the ordinary miracles shaping our own days. Her final line nudges us toward humility: that life may have meaning even beyond our explaining.

Question for Readers:

Which line from Szymborska’s poem resonates most with your own quiet preferences — and why?