Sometimes

Sometimes

1440 1080 Robert Rife

Sometimes the drops of air laugh at our impudent chuckle
and gather themselves into a breath. Sometimes

when the robin stares too long at the kitchen window,
we become her careless dream. Sometimes

the patches of nothing between the rain
know something, too, of waiting. Sometimes

I pinch myself asleep long enough to awaken again
to the resurrection of your scent. Sometimes

the sucking sound when pulling boots up from the mud
is how I hear your leaving. Sometimes

the one goose not in formation with the others,
heading where life goes are my thoughts without you. Sometimes

like old leaves pasted back on the living tree
is the sound of my cracked voice next to your song. Sometimes

like a shower in the lobby with the door open
is our talk. Sometimes

in the wordless poetry, alone,
is our silence.

 

Robert Rife

My friends think me complicated. My employer thinks me talented but at times, troublesome. God, and my wife see me as I am - a philosopher-poet with a rather circuitous journey of life and faith, the music and worship minister at Yakima Covenant Church, a singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, poet and writer. I am a graduate from Spring Arbor University with an M.A. in Spiritual Formation and Leadership. These poems, and my life, are dedicated to those places where life, liturgy, theology and the arts intersect with and promote spiritual formation – who we are becoming. Join me on this journey to word-land. Maybe we'll find each other there and share a story or two.

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