I Am Waiting For My Agony To End Poem by Mohammad Younus

I am waiting for my agony to end,
I am waiting for my joy to begin,
I am waiting for the renaissance of Islam,
For an end to Islamphobia and hatred,
For the establishment of a new world order,
For the Islamic Eagle to really spread its wings,
On the blue skies of the Islamic world,

I am waiting,
For the Age of Anxiety to drop dead,
For the final withering away of all governments,
That have brought the world to the brink of final disaster,
For the erasing of all hateful isms...
...fascism, nationalism, capitalism, communism...
Without killing and genocide,

I am waiting,
For the harbinger of peace and order,
To sweep across the restive world,
For the Gifts of love and peace to be distributed evenly,
For a world of abundance and prosperity,
To feed the starving people reeling under poverty,

I am waiting,
For the Great Wall Of Divide to be crossed,
For the secret of eternal life to be discovered,
For the wutheringstorms of life to be over,
To set sail for happiness and salvation,
For the lost music to sound again in the Lost Wonderland,
For Allah to take me back to Adam's wonderland,
To retransmit to me the knowledge divine,
To fulfill my dream of innocence,

I am waiting,
For the day that ends war, strife, and conflict,
For a day of retribution and deterrence to wrongdoers,
For what America and its allies did,
To Japan, Vietnam, Afghanistan, Libya, and the Middle east...

I am waiting,
For the oppressed people of the world,
To take off and get on top of their zenith,
For the meek to be blessed and inherit the earth,
For some deliverer to come, and fight out the darkest powers,
Until the final victory is achieved,
Over the blood spillers and hatemongers,

I am waiting,
For a final disarmament conference,
For a new world order of peace and coexistence,
And of universal brotherhood, equity and equanimity,
For breathing in some fresh air of love and peace,
I am feeling suffocated with plumes of terrorful fire

I am waiting,
For the forests and greeneries to sprout again,
For the youth with dumbed tongues to speak again,
For the scared children dumping their heads
Under mothers' breasts to play again,

I am waiting,
For the strains of collective torture to shake my mind,
So that I get up to tap on the screen of my phone,
To write the great indelible poem of resistance and protest,

I am waiting,
For the fleeing gunners laying down their arms,
For people embracing each other in intense rapture,

I am waiting,
Perpetually and forever for a renaissance of wonder.

Mykoul
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