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.
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 