Musings by The Poet Loriet
Not Without My Daughter
Demon, let go
of my daughter.
I'm claiming her,
bringing her back
from the private hell
you've dragged her to.
I won't leave her side.
You'll have to kill me first.
I'm not scared of you.
I'll spill my own blood
walking through
your razor-sharp words,
burn my flesh to
enter your lair,
but I will save her.
You see,
she belongs to me.
I laid in bed as
I lost sixty pounds.
You could count
all of my bones.
Tubes were shoved
down my nose
into my stomach,
I.V. needles
bruising my arms,
vessels to carry
life-giving formulas
pumped at a steady rate
to keep my baby
and me alive.
Every day,
I listened
for her beating heart
from my hospital bed,
read books to my
expanding stomach,
and found the willpower
to wake up and
fight for us.
She is still my baby.
She will always be...
my baby.
Bring her back,
swaddled in her blanket
depicting the horses
that she loves because
they are as free
as her spirit.
Bring her back,
and we'll
call a truce...
I need to rock her,
hold her close,
smell her hair,
stroke her skin,
sing her lullabies.
Bring her back
peacefully,
and there
won't be trouble,
then go back to hell,
where you belong!
Lori Beal
of my daughter.
I'm claiming her,
bringing her back
from the private hell
you've dragged her to.
I won't leave her side.
You'll have to kill me first.
I'm not scared of you.
I'll spill my own blood
walking through
your razor-sharp words,
burn my flesh to
enter your lair,
but I will save her.
You see,
she belongs to me.
I laid in bed as
I lost sixty pounds.
You could count
all of my bones.
Tubes were shoved
down my nose
into my stomach,
I.V. needles
bruising my arms,
vessels to carry
life-giving formulas
pumped at a steady rate
to keep my baby
and me alive.
Every day,
I listened
for her beating heart
from my hospital bed,
read books to my
expanding stomach,
and found the willpower
to wake up and
fight for us.
She is still my baby.
She will always be...
my baby.
Bring her back,
swaddled in her blanket
depicting the horses
that she loves because
they are as free
as her spirit.
Bring her back,
and we'll
call a truce...
I need to rock her,
hold her close,
smell her hair,
stroke her skin,
sing her lullabies.
Bring her back
peacefully,
and there
won't be trouble,
then go back to hell,
where you belong!
Lori Beal
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Not Without My Daughter
Not Without My Daughter
