I hope the stars part for you

as you make your way to heaven.

I hope your smiles, your laughter,

do not perish in the crossing.

And I hope you still

get to dream.

I hope your poems see outside

of bathroom stalls,

and that you live as many lives

as the ones you saved.

You were the one who said

it’s not over—

_Yet_—

and wrote a thousand reasons why.

But you know you didn’t have to;

that word alone

was already enough

to carry us all,

and not miss a single step.

_Yet_—

I wonder if it could,

had you not first given it

directions.