The Arafat, I Knew

Amid, first Intifada, and the last one
A lass, was lost, to a maverick’s charms
The messiah, of a land, with an ethos undone
Was once, a solemn storm, who played, in my arms!

Old though, by an age, but an epic awe
How he, swept away, a starry-eyed virgin
But was crestfallen, when I, shortly saw
An Arab mellowing, like a Jewish sin!

He dared, my Palestine, to ever-bleed
For that, cherished myth, of sovereignty
Whilst a hope languished, in a fear, married
To a woman’s fantasy, and a man’s misery!

Who sold, their dreams, bought my freedom too
Was not my man, nor their hero
But the pharaoh, of a jihad, once true
Now, recounted shards, of his spent ego

“Oh! Set me free!” I begged, to ‘Lord’s guise’
A ‘mock-martyr’, of a deadbeat coup
In, Fool’s Paradise, with his Nobel ‘Peace’ Prize
Oh! Dare, I bare, The Arafat, I Knew!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra

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