Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man
whose quiver is full of them.He shot his arrows and scattered the enemy,
with great bolts of lightning he routed them.
Children are like arrows. Mine are young right now, but one day I will send them out into the world to do battle with it. Will they be well-made – hewn from stout wood? Bound strongly and tempered to flex, but not break? Will I fletch them correctly to guide them on their flight? Will their sharpened warheads pierce the evil they are sure to encounter?
Advertisements
1 Comment