"Every generation of children instinctively nests itself in nature, no
matter how tiny a scrap of it they can grasp. In a tale of one city
child, the poet Audre Lorde remembers picking tufts of grass which crept
up through the cracks in paving stones in New York City and giving them
as bouquets to her mother. It is a tale of two necessities. The grass
must grow, no matter the concrete suppressing it. The child must find
her way to the green, no matter the edifice which would crush it." Jay
Griffith shares more in this haunting and beautiful essay.
