robert rife

When a song knows you

1920 1280 Robert Rife

On that rare occasion when comes a song that catches in your throat and your moistened eyes lift; your heart swells and your tongue cleaves in silence to the roof…

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We are eucharist

1280 853 Robert Rife

You and I – we are eucharist. We are the slow quench and burn of wine made well from flaming water. We are from yeast – all that nourishes made…

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Life lessons at Starbucks

1280 865 Robert Rife

It’s okay to let the terry-cloth wind blow itself through your thinning hair. When the leaves fly past your brow in that dismissive way they leave a glint of naiveté,…

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Losing inhibition

1920 1440 Robert Rife

Just about the time the afternoon had worn off its edges enough to let the daylight leave, there came to mind a certain wave of thought. Lovers made love. Haters…

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The Smile Of God

1500 1000 Robert Rife

For all those whose cruciformity brings light to dark places, hope to bleak places and promise where there is none. God sees. Dark and insistent the vultures come, descending on…

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Loving Judas

1920 1277 Robert Rife

Legs dangle, arms crossed, nestled in the humming lilacs, oblivious to all but the playful patter of unicorn hooves – a wax doll flays a panda and steals a school…

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Driving School, Autumn Nights, Thoughts On Poverty

1920 1192 Robert Rife

Poverty never ceases to surprise and disarm. What is truly alarming however is whenever I grow indifferent or worse, apathetic, to its crying dishonor. May I never be unaware or…

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Having Sung With The Choir – An Evening Examen

1920 1440 Robert Rife

Having sung with the choir, this evening’s venture brings light to the night and a dark covering of powdered stillness descending, descending still upon these battered brows. Hear, O hear…

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What Happens After

1920 1304 Robert Rife

There is a laziness in the light while evening shadows crouch in fear behind too much sun, still breathing heavily, pushing their way, like pain. ________ Windows marble and cut…

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This Holy Skin

2048 1365 Robert Rife

We stand and crane our necks reaching for heaven’s bright smile, upon shoulders of brown and moving green, and in the act forget ourselves as one and there and good.…

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Spring On Ash Wednesday

1679 1273 Robert Rife

Begins again this Springward journey; rebirthing all that once lived. Trickle again once fickle brook and stream sickle sighs yet in repose, sleeping still. Earth, sore and Winter-stiff, seeks, sighs…

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