Still Shaking, In The Pew, I Understood

On The Girl's Brown Legs There Were Many Small White Scars. I Was Thinking, Do Those Scars Cover The Whole Of You, Like The Stars And The Moons On Your Dress? I Thought That Would Be Pretty Too, And I Ask You Right Here Please To Agree With Me That A Scar Is Never Ugly. That Is What The Scar Makers Want Us To Think. But You And I, We Must Make An Agreement To Defy Them. We Must See All Scars As Beauty. Okay? This Will Be Our Secret. Because Take It From Me, A Scar Does Not Form On The Dying. A Scar Means, I Survived.

We Don't Know Our Hearts Until Life Puts Us To The Test, And Wwii Fascinates Because It Was The Last Time Everyone Was Simultaneously Pushed To Their Limit.

That Is How We Lived, Happily And Without Hope. I Was Very Young Then, And I Did Not Miss Having A Future Because I Did Not Know I Was Entitled To One.

I Think Bravery Means A Different Thing To Everyone.

I Think My Ideal Man Would Speak Many Languages. He Would Speak Ibo And Yoruba And English And French And All Of The Others. He Could Speak With Any Person, Even The Soldiers, And If There Was Violence In Their Heart He Could Change It. He Would Not Have To Fight, Do You See? Maybe He Would Not Be Very Handsome, But He Would Be Beautiful When He Spoke. He Would Be Very Kind, Even If You Burned His Food Because You Were Laughing And Talking With Your Girlfriends Instead Of Watching The Cooking. He Would Just Say, 'ah, Never Mind'.