Whatever is portrayed in this work, one can look into our daily mirror of life, which we shall, indeed share, because of our common origin and appreciation of life. In the midst of all our sufferings, life ought to be carried on. Those who sing the dirges of such traumatized nations are; orphans, widows, refugees, disabled, AIDS victims and the displaced. From the street corners, refugee camps, funeral homes, bus stations, market squares, and deserted villages, we shall sing our songs, on our own behalf and for our ancestors who are long gone before us. If we can fix ourselves in these few pages of The Bone Of My Heart, let us do it!