Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the

"Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves." — so wrote T. S. Eliot, the poet of shadows and revelation, whose verses plumbed the mystery of the human heart. In this declaration, Eliot unmasks the human condition: that beneath our daily lives lies a vast reservoir of unspoken emotion, a substratum of our being, deep currents of longing, fear, love, and despair that rarely reach the surface. And he proclaims that poetry is one of the few instruments capable of piercing the veil and revealing these hidden depths.

We live, Eliot says, in constant evasion of ourselves. Men and women fill their days with tasks, distractions, ambitions, and noise. They labor, they plan, they chatter, but rarely do they stop to face the full truth of their own hearts. For within us are feelings too vast to name, sorrows too raw to confront, desires too sacred to expose. To live constantly on the surface is easier, safer, more bearable. Yet it is also a kind of exile — exile from our true selves.

Here enters poetry, not as ornament but as revelation. A poem, with its rhythm, its imagery, its strange power of suggestion, reaches into that substratum and awakens what lies dormant. It speaks to the unnamed feelings we did not know we carried, feelings that tremble in silence until the poet’s words give them shape. A reader encounters a line, and suddenly something stirs: recognition, grief, or wonder. The poem has opened a door into the hidden chambers of the soul. Thus, poetry rescues us from our evasion and calls us back to ourselves.

Consider, O listener, the story of Wilfred Owen, the soldier-poet of the First World War. His poems did not merely describe the trenches; they brought forth the terror, pity, and futility that lay unspoken in the hearts of millions who endured the conflict. In lines like "What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?" he gave voice to the unspeakable. Soldiers and citizens alike found in his words the echo of their own unnamed feelings, buried beneath duty and silence. Through poetry, they penetrated the depths of grief they had been avoiding, and in that recognition, they found both sorrow and truth.

Eliot’s wisdom, then, is not only about poetry, but about the human soul. For to evade ourselves is to live shallowly, estranged from what is most essential within us. To face ourselves is frightening, for in the substratum dwell not only beauty but also fear, guilt, and mortality. Yet only by facing these depths can we live fully. Poetry serves as a lantern, dim but steady, guiding us into that darkness and revealing what we would otherwise flee.

The lesson is clear: do not fear the depths of your own being. Let poetry, or any art that speaks truly, lead you into yourself. When a verse stirs something nameless, linger with it. When a poem unsettles you, allow it to do its work. Do not rush back into the noise of the world, but sit with the silence it opens. For in confronting what lies beneath, you will discover not only sorrow but strength, not only fear but wisdom.

Practical action lies before us: read poetry regularly, not as mere entertainment but as meditation. Choose lines that disturb or uplift you, and write them down. Reflect on what they awaken in you. Write your own verses, not for perfection but for honesty, so that you may give voice to the unnamed within yourself. And above all, resist the temptation to forever evade — for life lived only on the surface is no life at all. To face the substratum of your being, with the aid of poetry, is to step closer to truth, and closer to the wholeness of your humanity.

Thus, let Eliot’s wisdom guide us: poetry makes us aware of the hidden depths within, and rescues us from the great evasion. It awakens us to the mystery of our own hearts, where words falter but truth abides. Let us not flee from that mystery, but enter it with courage, guided by the voices of poets who have walked before us. For in facing ourselves, we become more fully alive.