I find my own words lacking, so these poems will have to suffice. They merely remind me of my good friend and the long talks we often shared. Some may find my choices dark or bleak, but to me they speak to the beauty of Saule's ephemeral life. Perhaps they will make sense to those who (and I hesitate to phrase it so) knew her well enough. I will miss you more than I will ever let on.
I've seen a Dying Eye
Run round and round a Room -
In search of Something - as it seemed -
Then Cloudier become -
And then - obscure with Fog -
And then - be soldered down
Without disclosing what it be
'Twere blessed to have seen
- Emily Dickinson, #547
energy everywhere. My story
gets told in various ways: a romance,
a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy.
Divide up my forgetfulness to any number,
it will go around.
These dark suggestions that I follow,
are they part of some plan?
Friends, be careful. Don't come near me
out of curiosity, or sympathy.
- Rumi, Sometimes I Forget Completely