Lucy M. Young
If you really love me let me go.
Let me be free to think and feel
And be my own unique and special person.
Hold me not so tightly
That my hopes and dreams are smothered
By your possessive love.
Set me free.
If I do not return to you
'Twas never meant to be;
But if I do,
Love me deeply, trustingly,
And I will rest forever
Close to your heart.
by Lucy M. Young
I never knew the joy of bearing children.
For reasons known to God alone
It was denied me.
'Twas said that I'm not fit to be a mother;
I can't believe it's true, but then again
It may be.
I do not understand
Why all the mother love I feel
Should have to be repressed.
The love I would bestow upon my own
Was always freely given to other people's children.
I've so much love -
The more I give the more I have to give.
I pray the Father in His tender mercy
Will help me find a way to use this love;
And grant me courage to defy
Any who'd keep me from experiencing the joy of giving love
To all the children of my lonely heart.
by Alan Cameron and Ted Weems
Time out from Lucy’s poetry to share a little verbal snapshot of Lucy and her sister, Barbara from a time – maybe 30 years ago – when the two performed a delightful old song about two feuding mountain families. If memory serves (which, more often than not, it doesn’t), their church had a talent show and this was their hilarious contribution. Picture two gray-haired ladies in overalls and straw hats, up on the stage at the front of a church full of their fellow parishioners….Here’s what they sang:
Gather 'round me children and I'll tell a story
Of the mountains and the days when guns was law
When two families got to feudin', it was bound to end in shootin'
So just listen close, I'll tell you what I saw
Oh, the Martins and the Coys they was reckless mountain boys
And they took up family feudin' when they'd meet
They would shoot each other quicker than it took your eye to flicker
They could knock a squirrel's eye out at ninety feet.
All this fightin' started out one Sunday mornin'
When old Grandpa Coy was full of mountain dew
Just as quiet as a churchmouse, he stole in the Martins' henhouse
Cause the Coys they needed eggs for breakfast, too
Oh, the Martins and the Coys they was reckless mountain boys
Coz old Grandpa Coy's gone where the angels live
When they found him on the mountain he was bleedin' like a fountain
Cause they punctured him 'til he looked like a sieve.
After that they started out to fight in earnest
And they scarred the mountains up with shot and shell
There was uncles, brothers, cousins, why they bumped 'em off by dozens
Just how many bit the dust is hard to tell.
Oh, the Martins and the Coys, they was reckless mountain boys
At the art of killin' they become quite deft
They all know'd they shouldn't do it but before they hardly knew it
On each side they only had one person left.
Now the sole remaining Martin was a maiden
And as purty as a picture was this Grace
While the one remaining boy was the handsome Henry Coy
And the folks all knew they'd soon meet face to face.
Oh the Martins and the Coys, they was reckless mountain boys
But their shootin' and their killin' sure played hob
And it didn't bring no joy to know that Grace and Henry Coy
Both had sworn that they should finish up the job.
So they finally met upon a mountain pathway
And young Henry Coy he aimed his gun at Grace
He was set to pull the trigger when he saw her purty figure
You could see that love had kicked him in the face.
Oh the Martins and the Coys they was reckless mountain boys
But they say their ghostly cussin' gave them chills
But the hatchet sure was buried when sweet Grace and Henry married
It broke up the best durn feud in these here hills.
You may think this is where the story ended
But I'm tellin' you the ghosts don't cuss no more
Coz since Grace and Henry wedded
They fight worse than all the rest did
And they carry on the feud just like before.
by Lucy M. Young
When the day is gray and I can't find my way
Through the mists of sadness and pain,
A light seems to shine through the darkness for me
And my heart is uplifted again.
For Jesus is there and He whispers to me,
"I'll be with you, my child, all the way;
"So don't be afraid, I will always be near
"To guide you through every day."
I know He is with me wherever I go
And His love is a shining light
To guide me and keep me safe on my way
Through confusion and darkest night.
The Lord holds me up when I'm weak or in pain,
When my load seems too heavy to bear;
So I trust in Him daily, and lean on His strength,
And rely on His tender care.
Just as a mother holds her child
And bids him be unafraid,
Just so Jesus holds us close to His heart
With a love that will never fade.
When it is time for me to depart
And this world I may no longer roam,
I know He'll be with me to take my hand
And lead me all the way home.
by Lucy M. Young
Lord, let me be like the sturdy pine
That stands outside my window
Let me lift my arms in adoration to you
As the pine tree lifts its branches to the sky
Let me stand firm against the trials of life
Help me endure my pain as a passing breeze
Through the pine tree's lovely foliage
Then when the storms of life have passed
Let me be serene and peaceful like the pine tree
As I leave to live forever free of pain
In the shelter of my dear Saviour's love.
by Lucy M. Young
Alone and ignored she sits in her wheelchair
The chaotic life of the nursing home flowing around her
No one to talk to, no one to care
What is she thinking?
Idly her hands pluck at her dress
Her eyes gaze into space
What memories or dreams lie behind that gaze?
Snowy head bent, she dreams the hours away
Are her memories happy?
Does she have a family somewhere?
Or is she really alone?
Bless her, Lord, and let her know
That you are always near for her
And she need never be alone again.
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 