Too Quiet - Nov 7 2025

 

Too Quiet

Nov 7 2025



It's too quiet here.

The sort of silence that alters space;

so out here

under a clear night sky

that’s as black as black can get

it feels truly boundless.

Yet somehow, claustrophobic as well;

like the walls 

on all 4 sides

are closing in,

the emptiness overhead

is pressing down.

I need, it seems, to be cocooned in sound

or my thoughts run away.

Or could it be the solitude

that’s unsettling me,

the inescapable fact

this silence brings home?

Especially when all I hear is myself;

every swallow going down,

every breath too loud,

and every thump of my heart

a faulty metronome 

set alarmingly fast.

And even were I to talk, babble, or shout

my voice would either vanish

 — as if absorbed

by the acoustic walls

of a small sound-proof cell —

or be broadcast out into the black,

then keep on going

until the air runs out.

I can feel my ears straining to hear,

as if they could capture sound

like a serval cat’s

big prehensile ears.

I walk softly,

as if “they” were listening in

or even watching;

a prisoner

in my own Panopticon

where every move is monitored.

If only there was noise, 

and I could slip by unnoticed,

anonymous

in all that cacophony.

But I’m a laboratory rat

under one-way glass

being silently observed.

Or, like some lost Amazon tribe

being carefully studied 

by some patient anthropologist

crouching in the bush.

Too self-conscious

when I should be enjoying

this rare peace and quiet,

a stillness

one could spend a lifetime

in search of.

You’d think silence like this 

was the default state of the world;

yet it feels so unnatural

for a social animal

who started to listen

while still in the womb.

Who knew

that silence could be so oppressive?

That here, only noise

would quiet my mind

and let me feel safe.

Here’s something. Not sure it’s true for me (I love silence, seek it out, and am highly sensitive to sound); but I imagine it will resonate with some readers. 

Nevertheless, I actually get absolute silence out here (when the only noise is what your body makes) and not only — at least on a dark night under a high black sky — can it give an anxious edge to my sense of solitude, I also do get a bit of that slightly paranoid feeling of being observed. 

Or maybe that’s more the night than it is the quiet.