It’s not the metal mold that shapes the batter as it pours in.
My father looked into my small brown eyes. Claims he looked into who
this young baby was, a “Valentina.”
It is recognized as a statement of health and vigor. Femininity and love. Ironically
the holy priest whom stamped the name with such characteristics, was tortured, beaten to death with clubs, and beheaded. An oxymoron.
A sharp rose pedal, a lively combatant. Can anyone fully comply?
It’s not the metal mold that shapes the batter as it pours in. The batter has shaped
the mold itself, I have written my own definition. The question has changed
from what name fits her, to what will she make it mean? Saint Valentines a warrior
of love. Valentina Tereshkova first woman astronaut to go to space.
The past sets the bias, but neither am I a holy priest nor an Astronaut.