That Day

She replayed That Day
Every day.
The little things
She should have said,
Should have done,
To stop it happening.
She knew it was futile;
She could no more go back in time
Than she could levitate.
That Day was simply the culmination
Of many days before
Where she had not said,
Had not done,
Had not noticed
What a mother surely should have.
But now That Day had passed,
And all was lost.


This entry was posted in Death, depression, Eating Disorders, Emotions, Family, Life Lessons, Love, Mental Health, Parent-Child, Parenting, Relationships, self-harm and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to That Day

  1. I had a day like that, Pooky, many years ago. It’s hard to stop creating a better one in my head.


  2. Even when you know you did and said everything you possibly could, all can be lost. You can spend years picking through the debris of life searching for ‘the answer’ before you realise – you never fully understood the question.
    Pooky, sometimes your poetry takes my breath away, this is one of those times. When I first read this poem I truly stopped breathing for a moment. xx


    • PookyH says:

      This one was about you but I didn’t know if you’d like it. I often think about you and yours. I admire your strength but cannot begin to imagine the depth of your pain. Love you xxx


    • PookyH says:

      And I think you’re right. I think we always feel we should have been able to do something. Something. But I think that more times than not that is untrue and we have to give ourselves permission to stop looking backwards regretfully.


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