Mice: A Poem About Calling for Help

Orange moon in black sky

MICE: A Poem About Calling for Help


At 3:00 am, sleep skitters

across the room,

a shy mouse, out of reach.


I lie in the dark

and hear more of them

in the walls, the ceiling:

old decisions, choices long past,

regrets, sorrows, fears,

yellow-toothed and dirty,

chewing wires.

At this rate lights will flicker,

come winter.


And so I call You,


Are You there?

Will You answer?

Will You come here once again,

into the infestation?


I’m here, You say.

I’m here.

Full Moon over Mt. Baker

Cheryl Bostrom, Mice: A Poem About Calling for Help

“In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help . . . . He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me . . .” Psalm 18:6, 16-17


#CallingForHelp  #GodWithUs #Comforter #WatchingNatureSeeingLife #ChristianPoetry

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Love the outdoors? I can take you there. Rural & wild PNW posts and photos from a naturalist, faith writer, and author of three books, including the award-winning novel Sugar Birds. Member of Redbud Writers Guild.

13 thoughts on “Mice: A Poem About Calling for Help

  1. Cheryl, this poem captures what I’ve been feeling in so few words. I am amazed at how you can take gallons of sap of emotion and distill it into spiritual syrup (that’s the New Englander in me coming out.) The mice of worry and fear are keeping me up nights, too. I hear them in the walls. Thankfully God does too.

    Liked by 1 person

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