Cricket

This post was originally written October 27th, 2021

This morning a cricket 
crawled across the kitchen floor 
It desperately tried to escape me
In my gut, I knew
This creature was dying 
and I could have
oh so easily, as I have before,
scooped it up and
flushed it down to
end it’s tiny suffering
Yet, I gently coaxed it
onto a piece of paper,
protected it from harm
under a dome of plastic,
which once contained 
the frozen sweetness of 
my nightly indulgence 
Cricket sat stunned and blinking 
(do crickets blink?)
as the birds gathered
gleaning, I knew 
that soon this tiny being 
would be breakfast 
to the gleaners
and I ask myself why
Why did I find it 
easier to contemplate 
the way a bird 
will snatch
greedily with its beak, 
a fat cricket already dying?
Why did I go to the trouble 
then, to gently coax it
with my hands and 
my voice
soothing as if it were a
crying babe unable 
to sleep
It’s okay
It’s okay
Either way, I 
carried it to its demise
Why did I invest myself 
in offering it sweet freedom, 
if freedom would be so
easily snatched
when I removed my hand?
But even as I asked,
I knew
the cricket was 
not meant to 
die on my kitchen 
floor, or down my bathroom 
drain 
One fleeting moment 
of freedom 
ripples of which 
will effect all beings
the gleaners waiting 
as I turned to leave
the cricket
chirped its gratitude 
to me 
It’s okay 
It’s okay
And I, one drop slid silently
in gratitude, whispered my
goodbye 
~Cricket, by Crystal Marie