New Growth
And then I see the future full of freedom and I see this: The scrubgrass grows again along the shattered roads and canals of the war. The echoes of bomb-blasts fade from the city’s stone walls. The women get their men back with the exception of those killed in action or still in service—those women get back heroes. And the heroes walk along the road and trample the scrubgrass that they didn’t have time to notice before, or that the artillery had kept shorn to the roots, or that God had only just blessed them with the eyes to see. Those were the elements of our promised land: The returning men and the returning scrubgrass. That was all anyone needed.