The Impossibility of Silence

"Holiness is a force, and like the others can be resisted."
      Annie Dillard, "A Field of Silence" in Teaching a Stone to Talk (1982)


1.

First thing in the morning
is the ringing of artificial bells
that once inspired H.D.T.
to cast aside "mechanical
aids" for wakefulness.

The daily glide & spin
creates a noise like
liftoff & sustains
through the hour
a tunnel's windy
rattle & hum.

Then there is the shouting
above the nonsense
of the braindead 
megaphone.

The internal
monologue always
warning that too much
talk might ruin even
the eagerest of ferns.

The click, the buzz,
the vibraphones
in every bag
& pocket
taking their
turns at
rippling
slightly the
delicate air.


2.

It is about this time
that one longs for the
desert's haunting emptiness
of sound, with footsteps'
constant pounding the only
sound external & the sole
saving thump of sanity.

To stop is to feel the heavy
drum of circulating blood
the hum of neurons firing.
leaping, gathering speed
to tips & return.

This terrifying solitude
is impossible to forget.
Nothing more frightening
than one's internal
holiness.

The only chance you have
is to run, and keep running
until sleep or its unruly brother
gathers the quietude around you
& hums the sound of a silent sea.


3.

But here, the gift of constant noise
keeps away the fearful quiet
(the voice of God?)
& headphones at the bedside,
a t.v. on the wall,
supply the soundtrack
of an always moving world
that spins us through
the night & at least
one more day.