Wonder what children think about hell, careers and catastrophes? Sit back and listen to three poems with some insights into their private worries.

Theology of hell

I was worried. I was seven and Daddy (as we called him then) was tucking me into bed. I was worried about hell. I wasn’t sure how bad you had to be.

So I asked him, “When I die will I go to heaven or to hell?” Not a chatterbox he thought before he answered. We always could see him thinking with his eyeballs and his mouth.

He said, “I don’t believe in hell for God is a loving God. But if there is a hell, I’m sure that only a very very few would go to hell, and only after doing something very very bad.”

“Like what?” I pushed. Again he pondered. Then he said, “Like killing a person on purpose and never feeling sorry.” He was a vicar, and he knew.

He kissed me goodnight and left me healed. I knew for sure and certain I would never kill a person, not on purpose and if I did, I would be sorry— so I wouldn’t go to hell.

Vocational Guidance

You have to say something when they ask and they always ask. But I haven’t decided yet.

I might be an anthropologist or I might be a lady with a nail polish shop or I might be both, and in my spare time

I might be a ballerina. When I get tired of being a ballerina I will have a baby called Hannah

and she will be my friend. But I can’t have two friends called Hannah so I will give my baby Hannah

to my other friend, Layla. Actually I won’t get tired of being a ballerina.

Elsie's Scale of Terribleness

Having no one to play with is four out of ten if it’s only a single day. A sunburn on your bones is an eight. Dropping your lunch in the dirt is a five. A zombie attack is about a nine A ten would be if my dog died (that would make me very sad) or if all the humans of the world got destructed by the God of Mud but Granny dying would only be a five, because she’s old.

All poems are from How To Be Old, for sale at any New Zealand book store (if not, they'll order it) or buy direct from The Cuba Press.