God a Cricket and Me

No one in this old church but God, a cricket and me, How lonely his calls seem to be, No one answers the cricket’s calls, Only his echoes off the walls. There is no choir singing, Or church bells ringing, No pastor preaching, Nor teacher teaching. The cricket seems to be searching for past masses, As under the old cross he passes, No brides, no babies, no mourners does he see, No sounds, no prayers or any jubilee. It is as if he were speaking to the Lord, Without the use of a single word, I can feel that God hears his call, As he hears the prayers of us all. As the cricket’s chirps fill the room, Gone are my fears and gloom, For I know God loves him as small as he may be, They way God also loves me. Epic Ethereal Editor Poetry Contest Sponsored by: William Kekaula 5/9/19