Silence

Why is silence so unsettling?

Why do breathless nights and the sterile sounds of morning

shrink us

like shadows in the sun at noon?

Do the soundless, empty echoes

echo to us the emptiness of time?

Do the vast, unimaginable depths,

sound deep and hollow in their chambers

whenever silence reigns?

…

Or is silence—

like static dialed to a dull murmur—

simply too full,

too much the tortured twin of the unquiet mind,

made horribly fat by its need to exhaust every subject?

To have every thought.

So there can be

no more?

…

Silence, like darkness, the absence

of light.

Of time.

Of us. The absence of all, but somehow containing all,

tied tight and waiting to burst into

nothing.

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This is my response to the week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge: Exhaust. 

Now, I don’t consider myself a poet by any measure. I have, in fact, written quite a bit of bad poetry in my day. Nevertheless, I thought this was at least not the worst of the bad poems I’ve attempted, so I thought I’d share it.

Hungry for something a little more solid? Try these: The Feeling of Falling Down // Words for Things // Al in Wonderland

Comments and criticism are welcome below!