Redtree Times

Say Hallelujah– At the West End Gallery

The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint.

—Silence, Marianne Moore (1887-1972)

I am taking my cues this morning from the line above from poet Marianne Moore and her poem Silence. There’s a lot I would like to say this morning about the events of the last day or so but I feel restraint is best right now. Perhaps the painting at the top from my current West End Gallery show best expresses my feelings.

It’s titled Say Hallelujah.

Oddly enough, it’s not a painting that feels quiet even though it presents a bucolic scene, most likely one devoid of all boisterous sound, if any at all. But it presents a silence that is jubilant.

I am going to stop right there because I could easily go off on a long spiel.

Restraint is the word for the day.

Two things below. One is the whole poem Silence from the late Modernist poet Marianne Moore. The other is the version of the song Silence Is Golden from the Tremeloes in 1967. It was originally a Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons song, serving as the B-side to their hit single Rag Doll. The Tremeloes actually had a bigger hit with the song. I thought I would play their rendition because they also performed another fave of mine, Here Comes My Baby, written by Cat Stevens.

So, on to silence. Good advice for all concerned. Some folks would be wise to heed the words they will be hearing again tomorrow afternoon: “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

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Silence

My father used to say,
“Superior people never make long visits,
have to be shown Longfellow’s grave
or the glass flowers at Harvard.
Self-reliant like the cat—
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse’s limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth—
they sometimes enjoy solitude,
and can be robbed of speech
by speech which has delighted them.
The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;
not in silence, but restraint.”
Nor was he insincere in saying, “Make my house your inn.”
Inns are not residences.

— Marianne Moore