Hear

Hear

I want to be shaped in the stillness
between ripples of wind,

recast as the rest
between notes of song.

I want to lose myself here,
yes, here,

find myself here,
yes, here—

here between lines,
here between thoughts,

here in the blank nothing,
full and round.   

Canyonlands National Park, one of my favorite shatteringly quiet places

The Prompt

What’s the quietest place you’ve ever been? What’s the longest stretch that you’ve managed to stay still and silent and let the space around you be still and silent, too? How would you describe your relationship to silence? What emotions, sensations, or associations does the word “silence” conjure for you? How about the word “stillness?”

More and more, I crave silence. I relish the feeling that overtakes me when I click the music off and hear only the whirr of my car’s engine, the moment when I step outside and the refrigerator drone dies away, the moment when I climb into bed and let the noise of my to do list fade to black.

The sounds of nature hold silence within them. Still spaces punctuate the notes of birdsong, the wind rises and falls, comes and goes. When I walk through the woods and listen for the silence amidst a symphony of life, that underlying stillness feels even more present to me than the sound. Like every chirp or buzz or creak or rustle is a chord plucked from silence, black notes on a page discernable only because of the blank white that preceded them.

And yet, what a loud world will live in! How loud it can get inside of our own skulls!

If you would like a prompt to play with today, then I invite you to reflect on your own relationship with silence (or stillness, if you prefer). Where do you find it? When do you miss it? How do you chase it—or avoid it? If possible, spend a few minutes sitting (or slowly walking) in a silent place. Probably, you’ll notice that it isn’t totally silent after all. Tune your ears to hear the silence between sounds, the silence beneath the sound. Give that silence your attention. Notice if or how your nervous system responds. Stay within that silence for as long as you can.

From that wordlessness, what words do you want to write? I’d love to read your poems or reflections in the comments thread. I’m wishing you all moments of quiet and calm in the week ahead of you!

P.S. If you’re participating in the poetry telephone game, please keep in mind that I’ll be reaching out to you via Substack DM when it’s your turn! If I don’t hear from you within a day or so confirming that you’ve gotten my message, I’ll move on to the next person. If DM isn’t a good way to reach you, please reply to this email and let me know, and I’ll reach out to you via email instead for your turn.