Waiting For Barbarians To Come Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the stillness of the afternoon,
where shadows stretch long like whispers,
the air thickens with an unspoken dread,
and I find myself,
a solitary figure,
perched on the edge of time,
gazing down the dusty road,
where the horizon blurs into uncertainty.

The sun hangs heavy,
a burning eye in the sky,
watching over the quiet town
that once thrummed with life,
now held in a breath,
a pause,
a moment suspended like a fragile crystal,
waiting to shatter.

What do we expect?
What do we desire?
The question hangs like a storm cloud,
dark and pregnant with possibility.
Will they come with the thunder of hooves,
with eyes wild and voices like fire,
or will they slink in on the backs of shadows,
carrying the weight of forgotten dreams?

I see the faces of my neighbors,
etched with worry,
their hands wringing stories of the past,
the fabric of our lives fraying at the edges.
We gather in huddled clusters,
clutching our grudges,
our hopes,
our fragile certainties,
as if they could ward off the night.

But still, we wait,
with baited breath,
each heartbeat a drumroll,
each glance down the road a prayer,
a silent invocation,
for the barbarians to come,
to break the chains of our complacency,
to tear apart the seams of our existence.

For what is civilization
if not a cage of our own making?
Brick by brick, we build our walls,
and yet, deep inside,
we yearn for the chaos,
the wildness that reminds us
we are alive,
we are human,
we are flawed and beautiful,
like the stars scattered across the night sky.

So let them come,
the barbarians,
with their laughter like music,
their hearts ablaze with recklessness.
Let them break the silence,
let them howl at the moon,
let them dance upon the ruins
of our carefully constructed lives.
We are ready,
ready to embrace the unknown,
to trade our fears for freedom,
to find beauty in the wreckage.

And in this waiting,
in this stillness,
we discover ourselves,
not as victims of fate,
but as architects of a new dawn,
where the horizon is painted
with the colors of hope and despair,
and we are no longer bound
by the chains of our expectations.

So let them come,
the barbarians,
for we are here,
waiting,
not just for them,
but for the awakening of our souls,
the reclamation of our wild hearts,
the realization that in chaos,
there is a kind of order,
and in waiting,
we learn to be free.