Future Soft Rains Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad Yousef

In the whispered sighs of a fading earth,
where skies once danced with vibrant hues,
and laughter echoed in the rustling leaves,
now clings a heavy silence,
a prelude to the soft rains that will not come.

We tread on fragile paths,
woven through the fabric of our days—
each step a testament to the choices made,
each heartbeat a reminder of the ticking clock,
as shadows lengthen over fields once golden.

The rivers, once alive with stories,
now murmur in muted tones,
their banks crumbling like forgotten dreams,
while fish, ancient as the mountains,
flounder in waters tainted by our hands.

The air, thick with the weight of neglect,
wraps around us like a shroud,
stifling the songs of birds,
whose melodies have turned to whispers,
lost in the din of a world
too busy to listen.

Oh, gentle rains of the future,
will you wash away the sins of today?
Will you cleanse the scars we've etched
on the skin of this planet,
or will you fall softly,
unseen, unheard,
as we drown in the noise of our own making?

Each droplet a promise,
a fragile hope suspended in the clouds,
yet the storm brews,
dark and tumultuous,
a reminder that nature,
though patient,
will not wait forever.

We are but caretakers,
woven into the tapestry of existence,
yet we've become the weavers of our own demise,
spinning threads of convenience,
while the loom of life unravels
beneath our careless hands.

What will be left when the soft rains return?
Will they find barren lands,
or a chorus of green,
a revival of spirit,
a testament to resilience?

Let us rise with the dawn,
with hearts unbound and voices united,
to reclaim the earth,
to nurture the roots,
to plant seeds of change,
and together,
with hands clasped in determination,
we will await the future soft rains,
that might just fall,
with a gentle grace,
on a world reborn.