By Richard Olafson

As the world collapses
Singing stops everything from falling apart.
My wife walks through the living room,
Humming to herself, a hum
That slowly erupts into a song,
Rapturing the quiet with her grace
Her song pierces the rancid world
Together, places light before dark,
Dark before absence, the song she sings
Pierces the fresh scent of silence,
A presence at the edge of my yearning.

Even now the ruins of unread books
Pile high in the fleshly vocables
Of her refined presence moving agile amongst
The detritus of memory, laughter
And song has saved us,
She dances with a supple language
Embedded in the body. In the balance between
Past and present, present and future, life is less
Of a torture when I hear the symmetry of her song.
After one song of living there is no other.
I leave myself behind whenever she is near.

In the ruination of the world, the world leaves
Nothing behind, I grasp at the polished thread
That winds into the heart of our life is together.
The ornaments of life radiate outward,
Pleasant moments accumulate among the monuments
Of time spent when she is absent I hear the presence of her song.
In the refurbishment of the heart, only
Her song matters. In sorrow and in love
The heart matriculates its lessons of passion
Freedom is like that, it garnishes the feast of being
Against the ruins, nothing falls,nothing fails, all is whole
So long as there is this song integral to being.

The Importance of Arts, Culture, The Creative Process, and how this project resonates with you:
Culture is central to our being: to be human is to engage in the imagination. Human beings are creature of invention, which is the tool for survival give to us, and curiosity and imagination drive invention. Being human is being creative.

What was the inspiration for your creative work?
My wife's music and creative spirit.

Tell us something about the natural world that you love and don’t wish to lose. What are your thoughts on the kind of world we are leaving for the next generation? The trees, the trees, the sacred trees.

Photo credit: Carol Sokoloff, statue of Francois Villon behind, Paris

Richard Olafson is an editor, poet, book designer and publisher. A long-time Victoria resident, he is active in many community organizations. Olafson has published a number of books and chapbooks, among them Blood of the Moon, Cloud on My Tongue, and There Are Some So Unlucky They Do Not Even Have Bodies. He attended the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics in its second year of operation and was much influenced the following year by taking classes from Warren Tallman at UBC’s English Department. He is also the publisher of the Pacific Rim Review of Books. He lives in Victoria with his family.