The Truth of T.S. Eliot

(As revealed in The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock)

by

Lois Francis

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It's the poet's rule to tell the truth
to pounce on hate, unmask oppression,
defrock pomposity, lay bare hypocrisy
and reveal the ghastly face of deep depression.

But some truths are truer than others
— or perhaps more relevant to me —
they touch the stuff of daily life of ordinary people,
not heroic, not grand, just the way it has to be.

Simple, poignant revelations of the human condition
couched in compassion for the tedium of days,
addressing the unspoken loss of broken dreams
and the fear of turning from accepted ways.

I hear your pity for the clutter of my life
— filling time, using strength, keeping terror down —
and I listen for the sound of mermaids singing
lest I drown.

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