Rita Joe, the Poet Laureate of the Mi'kmaq people

North-American Indian poetry has always had a special appeal to me. It has a definite resonance with Hungarian poetry. The great motifs of Native American poetry is the tragic sense of loss of values, caused by European colonization and the love of nature.

One of the great Native American poets is Rita Joe.

"I was only a housewife with a dream to bring laughter to the sad
eyes of my people and trusting the anchor we live by to complete
the woven tale we are still telling." --Rita Joe

"...In the woods the old ones, the big trees, their job is
to give life and protect and nourish the young ones. When they're no
longer standing we think they're gone, that we've lost something
substantial. But they're still there. Their sap may no long be rising
but they're still providing and giving back. It's like that with people
too. When you think they're gone they're still here, taking care of
everything. Don't you forget that." --Rita Joe


Rita Joe, (March 15, 1932 – March 20, 2007) was a Mi'kmaq-Canadian poet and song writer, called the Poet Laureate of the Mi'kmaq people.

Born Rita Bernard in Whycocomagh, Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, she was the daughter of Josie and Annie Bernard. In 1942, she was orphaned.

In 1978, her first book, The Poems of Rita Joe was published. Over her lifetime she had six more books published.

In 1992, she was called to the Queen's Privy Council for Canada, one of the few non-politicians ever appointed.

She married Frank Joe in 1954. They had eight children and adopted 2 boys.

Poem

by Rita Joe

Our home is this country
Across the windswept hills
With snow on fields.
The cold air.

I like to think of our native life,
Curious, free;
And look at the stars
Sending icy messages.
My eyes see the cold face of the moon
Cast his net over the bay.

It seems
We are like the moon --
Born,
Grow slowly,
Then fade away, to reappear again
In a never-ending cycle.

Our lives go on
Until we are old and wise.
Then end.
We are no more,
Except we leave
A heritage that never dies.



Frank's Song

Someday my dear I'm going away
The other place my home is there
I'll be around where lovers they play
In your dreams I love you every day
Someday my dear I'm going away
Not meaning to but Niskam* say
Then so true it happens that way
He went away and now I am so blue.

Chorus:
So true are words of love
We take them all, not knowing when they will end
So true of what we say
We build it in our heart, for now it is so good.
Someday my dear I'll be seeing you
The words I say they are so true
Someday my dear, the stars they will shine
Together then, our love will show for all the time
Someday my dear together we'll roam
The loving land where lovers go
Someday my dear our dreams they will fly
When love is true, the dreams we share they do not die.

~ Rita Joe, January 30, 1997

Copyright © 2000 Rita Joe