for nuwa

It sometimes takes months and years
The softness of her lips stay on the roughness of your fingers –
And you go to touch them, only to find them
Just out of reach
forever and ever

This is the part that we do not understand:
death.
It is the never again
the permanence
the irreversible failure of it

I imagine over and over
I could have seen the car in time
I could have seen this accident
before I put the dress on
I could have seen the sadness in her eyes

I could have looked in the mirror.
I might have said goodbye earlier.
I should have not been brave and stupid
and learned how to be both, but better.
Oh, maybe.

Instead there is this:
looking at the water, remembering her,
and smiling at the thought that maybe,
finally, is she smiling now?
I hope so.