Well-known in her native Poland, Maria Wislawa Anna Szymborska received international recognition when she won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1996. In awarding the prize, the Academy praised her “poetry that with ironic precision allows the historical and biological context to come to light in fragments of human reality.” Readers of Szymborska’s poetry have often noted its wit, irony, and deceptive simplicity. Her poetry examines domestic details and occasions, playing these against the backdrop of history. Possibilities by Szymborska addresses human existence. As a result of her experiences during World War II, Szymborska, as a native of Poland, offers a unique perspective on life. In Possibilities, Szymborska takes on the difficult task of describing the abstract concept of human individuality. Through her wisdom and intellect, she leads the reader into an exploration of individuality.
At first sight, Possibilities appears to be an informal list of personal likes and dislikes. Almost every statement begins with the apparently simple phrase “I prefer”. Yet behind this repetitive structure lies a sophisticated meditation on identity, freedom, moral responsibility, uncertainty and the act of choosing. Szymborska does not attempt to define herself through grand declarations about nationality, ideology, religion or social status. Instead, she constructs a portrait of the self through a series of preferences, ranging from ordinary matters such as cats, movies, colours, books, and desk drawers to profound questions involving love, morality, politics, history, order, chaos, and existence itself. The apparently random list gradually reveals a coherent personality: sceptical of absolutes, suspicious of grand ideological claims, sympathetic towards individuals, attracted to freedom and exceptions, and willing to accept uncertainty as an essential part of existence. The title Possibilities is therefore significant. Every preference involves a choice among possibilities, but choosing one thing also means leaving another possibility behind. The poem simultaneously celebrates the freedom to choose and recognises the limitations inherent in every act of choice.
A Self-Portrait Made of Preferences
The poem begins with striking simplicity: the speaker prefers movies, cats and “the oaks along the Warta”. These preferences may initially seem trivial, but they immediately establish the principle on which the poem is built. Identity does not have to be expressed through heroic achievements or philosophical declarations. Countless small attractions, habits, attachments and choices also form a person. The reference to the Warta, a river in Poland, gives the speaker a geographical and cultural location without turning the poem into an overtly nationalistic statement. The speaker belongs somewhere, remembers particular landscapes and has emotional associations with particular objects, but she refuses to reduce herself to a single collective identity.
The preference for “Dickens to Dostoyevsky” continues this process of self-definition. Both are major novelists, but choosing between them reveals something about individual literary taste. Szymborska does not explain why Dickens is preferred. This refusal to justify every choice becomes important throughout the poem. Human preferences are not always rationally defensible, nor do they have to be. A person may prefer one thing to another. By repeatedly asserting “I prefer”, the speaker claims the right to make such choices without submitting them to external judgement.
The poem becomes more philosophically revealing when the speaker says that she prefers “myself liking people / to myself loving mankind”. The distinction is central to Szymborska’s humanism. “Mankind” is an abstraction, while individual people are concrete human beings. It is relatively easy to profess love for humanity as a grand idea; it is more difficult to respond sympathetically to actual individuals with all their imperfections and differences. Szymborska therefore distrusts large, sentimental declarations and prefers the modest but genuine act of liking particular people. The statement also reflects the poem’s larger resistance to abstractions. Individual experience matters more than ideological generalisation.
The preference for keeping “a needle and thread on hand, just in case” brings the poem immediately back to ordinary life. Such movements between philosophical reflection and commonplace objects are characteristic of Szymborska’s method. She does not separate abstract thought from daily existence. A needle and thread, the colour green, old illustrations, desk drawers and dogs with uncropped tails can coexist with questions about morality, politics and existence. The poem suggests that a human identity is made from all these things together.
The speaker’s preference “not to maintain / that reason is to blame for everything” introduces another important quality: resistance to intellectual absolutism. She does not reject reason, but she refuses to turn reason itself into a universal explanation or scapegoat. This attitude leads naturally to the declaration, “I prefer exceptions.” Exceptions disturb rigid systems because they show that reality cannot always be reduced to neat principles. Szymborska repeatedly values what escapes classification. Her preference for exceptions is therefore not merely personal eccentricity; it represents an intellectual position. Human reality is too complicated to fit perfectly into theories, categories or ideological systems.
Several subsequent preferences maintain the poem’s conversational and personal quality. The speaker prefers leaving early, talking to doctors about something other than illness, and old, finely lined illustrations. These details create the impression of a recognisable human personality rather than a philosophical lecturer. The poem’s wisdom emerges precisely through this mixture of the profound and the ordinary. Szymborska rejects the hierarchy that would regard questions of existence as meaningful while treating everyday habits as insignificant. Both contribute to the formation of the self.
Her declaration that she prefers “the absurdity of writing poems / to the absurdity of not writing poems” introduces an ironic reflection on poetry itself. Writing poetry may be absurd because poems cannot solve the world’s problems, abolish mortality or provide final answers to existence. Yet refusing to write is equally absurd. The poet therefore chooses creative expression while remaining aware of its limitations. This attitude captures Szymborska’s characteristic balance between seriousness and irony. She believes in poetry without pretending that poetry possesses absolute authority.
The speaker’s approach to love is similarly unconventional. She prefers “nonspecific anniversaries / that can be celebrated every day”. Love, in this formulation, should not depend upon official dates or ceremonial obligations. A relationship becomes meaningful through repeated everyday experience rather than prescribed occasions. This preference reinforces the poem’s distrust of rigid structures and its attraction towards spontaneity.
The statement “I prefer moralists / who promise me nothing” further develops this scepticism. The speaker distrusts those who offer moral certainty, guaranteed rewards or perfect solutions. Moral life is complicated, and anyone claiming to possess complete answers deserves suspicion. Closely related is her preference for “cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind”. Kindness need not be naïve. Szymborska imagines an ethical attitude that remains compassionate while also being intelligent and alert to human complexity.
Freedom, History and the Ethics of Choosing
As the poem progresses, apparently private preferences increasingly acquire political and historical significance. The speaker prefers “the earth in civvies”, an image that imagines the world in civilian rather than military clothing. The phrase is humorous, but its implications are serious. It suggests a preference for peace over militarisation and ordinary human existence over warfare. Given Szymborska’s historical background in twentieth-century Poland, a country deeply affected by war, occupation and political upheaval, such a preference carries considerable resonance.
This becomes explicit in the preference for “conquered to conquering countries”. The statement is deliberately paradoxical. Conventional political thinking associates conquest with victory, strength and glory, while being conquered signifies defeat. Szymborska reverses this value system. A conquering country may possess military power, but that power comes through domination of others. The conquered nation, although defeated, does not bear the same moral responsibility for aggression. The preference, therefore, reveals the speaker’s sympathy for victims rather than victors and her distrust of political power when it expresses itself through conquest.
The next declaration, “I prefer having some reservations”, is characteristic of the poem’s entire intellectual attitude. The speaker resists complete certainty. Reservations imply hesitation, qualification and willingness to acknowledge that one may be wrong. Such uncertainty is not presented as weakness. On the contrary, it becomes a sign of intellectual honesty. Szymborska prefers a questioning mind to rigid conviction.
Her preference for “the hell of chaos to the hell of order” develops this idea through paradox. Both alternatives are described as “hell”, preventing the reader from imagining either as ideal. Chaos may be painful, but absolute order can become oppressive. The statement can therefore be read as resistance to systems that attempt to regulate every aspect of human existence. When order becomes total, individuality and freedom disappear. The poem repeatedly chooses imperfect freedom over perfect control.
The preference for “Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages” produces another revealing contrast. Fairy tales openly acknowledge that they are inventions, whereas newspapers claim to describe reality. Yet the reality behind the headlines may be filled with violence, conflict, disaster, and political manipulation. The apparently fantastic world of fairy tales can therefore seem preferable to the disturbing absurdities of contemporary history. The line also continues Szymborska’s subtle interrogation of what counts as truth and reality.
Other preferences again return to smaller aspects of life. The speaker prefers “leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves” and “dogs with uncropped tails”. These apparently minor details reinforce her attraction towards naturalness, completeness and freedom from unnecessary human interference. An uncropped tail suggests allowing the animal to remain physically as nature produced it. The preference can therefore be associated with the poem’s broader resistance to imposed alteration and artificial control.
The statement “I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark” is particularly interesting because it highlights the distinction between what one possesses and what one desires. Human preference is not simply an affirmation of the self as it already exists. People are often drawn towards what is unlike themselves. Identity therefore contains contradiction. The speaker is able to accept herself while simultaneously preferring a characteristic she lacks.
The apparently mundane preference for “desk drawers” again demonstrates Szymborska’s ability to place the everyday beside the philosophical. Drawers contain private objects, unfinished materials, forgotten things and personal secrets. Whether or not such symbolism is intentionally foregrounded, the line contributes to the poem’s portrait of a speaker whose identity resides as much in small material surroundings as in abstract convictions.
One of the poem’s most important statements follows: “I prefer many things that I haven’t mentioned here / to many things I’ve also left unsaid.” The poem suddenly acknowledges its own incompleteness. No list, however extensive, can fully define a person. The speaker has already given many preferences, yet countless others remain unspoken. Identity cannot be exhausted by language. The self exceeds whatever can be written about it. This recognition prevents the poem from becoming a fixed catalogue of personality. The speaker remains open, unfinished and capable of further change.
This idea is central to the title Possibilities. To live is to encounter more possibilities than can ever be chosen or expressed. Every decision defines the self to some extent, but no decision completely determines it. Szymborska therefore presents identity as dynamic rather than fixed. The individual is continually constructed through choices while always retaining possibilities that remain unexplored.
Repetition, Paradox and the Poetry of Uncertainty
The poem’s most obvious formal feature is the repeated phrase “I prefer”. This anaphora provides structural unity to what might otherwise seem a random collection of statements. Nearly every preference begins from the same grammatical point, and the accumulation produces a distinctive rhythm. At the same time, repetition places extraordinary emphasis on the first-person pronoun “I”. The poem becomes an assertion of individual agency. The speaker does not say what everyone should prefer. She does not construct universal commandments. She repeatedly says what “I” prefer.
This distinction is fundamental. The poem values individuality without converting personal preference into universal law. The speaker takes responsibility for her choices while recognising that others may make different choices. In this sense, the poem has affinities with existentialist thought: human beings define themselves in part through their choices, and they must accept responsibility for those choices. Yet Szymborska avoids turning the poem into a systematic philosophical argument. The philosophy emerges naturally from the speaker’s apparently casual list.
The repeated “I prefer” also creates an interesting tension between certainty and modesty. “I prefer” is decisive because the speaker clearly states her choice, but it is also less authoritarian than “this is better” or “this is true”. To prefer something is to make a personal judgement without demanding universal agreement. The phrase therefore perfectly embodies the poem’s resistance to absolutism.
Szymborska frequently uses juxtaposition and paradox to complicate apparently simple choices. “Liking people” is placed against “loving mankind”; “writing poems” against “not writing poems”; “conquered” against “conquering countries”; “chaos” against “order”. Such oppositions initially appear to invite straightforward decisions, but the chosen alternatives often destabilise conventional expectations. A conquered country is typically considered less desirable than its conqueror; chaos is generally regarded as inferior to order. Szymborska deliberately chooses the less obvious side because conventional values can conceal moral problems.
Irony is consequently one of the poem’s most important modes. The poem never becomes solemn even when it approaches major questions. The phrase “the hell of chaos” and “the hell of order” makes both alternatives equally suspect. The preference for fairy tales over newspaper headlines quietly mocks the assumption that factual reporting necessarily offers a more comprehensible world than fiction. The preference for writing poetry despite its “absurdity” allows Szymborska to joke about her own profession while simultaneously defending it.
The poem is written in free verse and has no elaborate rhyme scheme. Its loose structure resembles spontaneous speech or a private inventory of preferences. This formal freedom corresponds to the poem’s subject. A poem devoted to individuality and resistance to rigid systems appropriately avoids an excessively rigid poetic structure. Yet it is not formless. The constant return of “I prefer” provides a strong organising principle. Freedom and structure therefore coexist, just as the speaker values individuality while recognising that every choice creates limits.
Enjambment also becomes significant at particular moments. When a preference extends across more than one line, the reader is encouraged to pause within a thought and then complete it. The statement “I prefer myself liking people / to myself loving mankind”, for instance, requires the second line to complete the contrast. Similar effects occur in statements concerning reason, poetry, anniversaries, and the final possibility that existence has its own reason for being. These extended statements often contain some of the poem’s most intellectually substantial reflections, allowing syntax and lineation to work together.
The poem’s diction remains remarkably plain. Cats, movies, needles, doctors, illustrations, fairy tales, dogs and drawers belong to ordinary experience. Szymborska avoids elevated philosophical vocabulary even when discussing difficult subjects. This simplicity is deceptive because the relationships between these ordinary objects generate complex questions about human identity. The poem demonstrates that philosophical reflection need not begin with abstractions; it can begin with the things a person chooses every day.
The Open Possibility of Existence
The final preferences move increasingly towards questions of time, uncertainty and existence. The speaker prefers “zeroes on the loose / to those lined up behind a cypher”. The image again resists accumulation, calculation and rigid numerical order. A zero placed behind another number acquires mathematical value through its position, whereas “zeroes on the loose” escape such organisation. The preference, therefore, fits the poem’s recurring attraction to freedom from systems and classifications.
The speaker then prefers “the time of insects to the time of stars”. Stars evoke vast cosmic time, distances and scales almost beyond human comprehension, while insects belong to shorter, more immediate cycles of existence. The preference can be understood as another affirmation of the near, tangible and living over the remote and abstract. Throughout the poem, Szymborska repeatedly chooses particular life over grand universality.
“I prefer to knock on wood” introduces an element of superstition. This is especially interesting after the poem’s repeated displays of intelligence and scepticism. The speaker does not attempt to present herself as perfectly rational. Human beings can be intellectually sophisticated and still participate in irrational habits. Szymborska allows contradiction to remain part of identity rather than treating it as something that must be resolved.
The preference “not to ask how much longer and when” suggests an acceptance of uncertainty regarding the future and perhaps mortality itself. Human beings naturally want to know how long situations will last, when events will happen and ultimately how much time remains in life. The speaker prefers not to demand such certainty. Once again, not knowing becomes preferable to false assurance.
The poem culminates in its most profound statement: “I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility / that existence has its own reason for being.” Significantly, the speaker does not declare that existence definitely possesses a reason. She prefers to retain the “possibility” that it does. This distinction captures the entire philosophy of the poem. Szymborska neither imposes meaning on existence nor dismisses existence as meaningless. She preserves an open space between certainty and despair.
The final word of the poem’s argument is therefore possibility rather than conclusion. The speaker is sceptical but not cynical. She doubts universal explanations but does not abandon hope. She refuses ideological certainty while remaining receptive to meaning. This position gives the poem its unusual emotional balance. It is simultaneously ironic and affirmative, intellectually cautious and deeply engaged with life.
Possibilities ultimately constructs human identity not as a fixed essence but as an evolving pattern of preferences, choices, contradictions, memories and uncertainties. Szymborska’s speaker defines herself through what she favours, yet she never claims that her preferences constitute universal truths. The poem consequently celebrates individual freedom while acknowledging that choosing one possibility necessarily means declining others. It values actual people over abstract humanity, kindness over moral grandstanding, reservation over certainty, peace over conquest, imperfection over imposed order and ordinary experience over grand abstractions.
The poem’s greatest achievement lies in its ability to turn a simple grammatical formula — “I prefer” — into a subtle exploration of existence. Repetition becomes self-assertion; ordinary objects become markers of individuality; humorous contrasts reveal ethical commitments; and apparently casual choices expose a coherent philosophy of freedom. The speaker accepts contradiction, uncertainty and incompleteness because these are fundamental conditions of human life. Even after listing so many preferences, she acknowledges all that remains unsaid, reminding us that no person can be completely contained in a list, a description, or a theory.
Thus, Possibilities is both a self-portrait and a meditation on what it means to be an individual. It invites readers to consider not merely what they prefer, but what their preferences reveal about their values, their relationships with others, and their understanding of existence. Szymborska avoids offering a final philosophical system because doing so would contradict the poem’s deepest principle. Human beings live among possibilities, making choices without possessing complete knowledge. The wisdom of the poem lies in accepting that condition and preserving, amid all uncertainty, the possibility that life itself may possess a reason for being.
wow.