“Her Joi-deVive”
I met her many years ago
Through brother John, I came to know
Her winsome smile, effusive love –
A Francophone – New Brunswick – of –Acadia – where bitter-sweet
Evangeline (through mom we’d greet
The better tears at broken love,
At hands of British push and shove).For English and the French of old,
Fought many wars, so we are told,
To gain the upper hand somehow
’Cross English Channel – then their row –In Canada (the name now used to) –
To rape the land as they might choose –
Would locals or some foreign breed
Get raping rights to sate felt needs?For Britts hate French, and Spanish too,
Italians, just to name a few –
How silly their incessant wars –
Their family squabbles for resource.But now she’s gone – yes accident,
But down below such problems went
Into that River, stream on stream;
Bewildering what this all means.But through the dust and smoke of pain,
She gave out life – we’re not the same
Since she came by – her friendship meant
Her son had chance at life – and went –Into his adult life with base
Quite mixed, but loved in any case –
Like a mom at end of troubled life
Some days each year were joy in strife.No, not three-sixty-five all great,
But some, and as the years quite late
Drew to a dreary close for her,
The sad and happy formed a blur.So thanks, my friend, your gifts to us
Of life, not perfect midst the fuss,
But still, like all friends do for friends,
We hold the good, as night descends –And let the rest blow in the wind;
For good the bad cannot rescind;
Thanks for your being in our lives,
Your gifts to us, which help us thrive.Thanks Lord for this.
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