Mosquitoes by the score ascend

from out the stagnant pools

like fog they hover, shimmer, hum

and melt into the weeds when sun

at midday shines most bright.

 

Thirsting for the blood of life

mosquitoes wait for evening cool.

If there’s no blood before weeks end

its life will be no more.

 

A rustling stirs the grass nearby

wings instantly a’blur

mosquitoes float out from the cover

and join the singing throng above

 

filled with frenzy by the smell

of warm rich blood of life,

yet careful not to be detected

by the pulsing, living skin

 

they hover, waver, find a spot,

zig zag, back track, zoom in now,

careful, gentle, land, but softly

pause, prod, brace, poke,

drink until the belly’s full,

 

fly away, a loaded tanker

happy as a lark,

equipped to seed with young

the stagnant pools at dark.

 

Arms a’flapping, slapping, clapping;

I try to enjoy a cool ev’ning breeze, but,

mosquitoes come from everywhere

to spoil, embroil, and tease.

 

Harumph, I go inside;

a prisn’er in my home.

With a Psalm and a prayer, I go to bed

and slowly drift,

drift down,

to sleep.

 

High,

thin,

drawing nearer,

nearer, louder, piercing singing

dragging from my eyes the sleep

that mosquito is back, my ear to tweek!

 

Where are you, crazy bug? I shout!

I’ll flip the lights and wait you out.

You drink my blood, you steal my sleep,

I’ll get that good-for-nothing bug!

 

Why? O why did God create this bug?

 

This pesky, loathsome, leachy creature.

Is this a part creation cursed?

Punishment? Chastisement?

Reminder that this earthly life

is not the one for which we hope?

 

O why did God create this bug?

 

That Psalm I read … what was it that it said?

Let’s see … it said:

“But I am a worm, and no man;

A reproach of men, and despised of the people” (Psalm 22:6)

 

“I am”

Who?

Me?

Am I?

 

Am I a worm, am I a slug?

Am I a mosquito, that most miserable bug?

A frail, sickly, pesky bug,

that lives to drink dark blood?

 

Yes, I’m a sinner

a worthless, wretched worm.

Sins overwhelm me, I need Thee, I thirst

I thirst for Thy blood, the blood of Thy Son

 

shed on the cross to cover my sin,

the blood of One risen, the blood of my Lord,

a spiritual blood, the blood of my life,

I drink in the preaching of Thy Holy Word.

 

Thy people all over the world cry to Thee,

like a cloud of mosquitoes, one desire they heed,

drawn near to the cross by deep knowledge of sin,

knowing that Thy blood alone will atone.

 

A mass of mosquitoes, a mass of deep sorrows,

a cloud of sighing, crying, and dying;

transformed by Christ’s blood to a beautiful bride,

we wait for the day when we’ll stand at His side.

 

Wonderful grace, the love of my God

for a sinner and wretched mosquito like me.

Can I comprehend? Could I ever say:

“I love you, mosquito, my blood is for you?”

 

Help me to hear when mosquitoes do sing

of Thy sovereign grace and Thy free-flowing love.

One drink of Thy blood, the new life is in me,

cause me to live that new life from above.

___________________________________________________________________________________

John is a member of Southwest Protestant Reformed Church in Grandville, Michigan.