Love’s winged messenger

The curtain! 


Ah, the curtain, 


I see it hiding your deep 


visceral emotion, 


a genuine empathy 


of your heart’s unseen 


but for now 
stranded notions of love. 



The voice of Love 


gently flies over the waters, 


gently sounds on the strand, 


gently fills the sky 


and lifts its darkness. 


I smell the rain, 


its freshness, 


not a flood 


but gently pouring. 


O little bird, 


Love’s winged messenger, 


let it still your unrest 


that toils to weave 


a warm nest 


waiting,


waiting on the sand, 


yet waiting 


in its gloom of love consumed.

From the deep sources of your mood 


see the clouds moving, 


see a ribbon of blue sky shining through! 



Dear heart ... what is the silent torment, 


what makes you pining? 


Little sparrow shake your feathers, 


and join the skylark's upward rising. 

--eva-maria hogrefe 

(2013)