Tuesday, August 02, 2016

Poetry: The Making of A Global Legend

Got you !
A helpless quarry.
I hate to admit this: 'Trust the blood-thirsty
Taliban's lynch pins out to silence your frail-voice,
For a dare, raise to affirm the significance
Of girl child education;
They tracked her down to Swat valley
With their ever resourceful stringing leads; Backlash
Akin to deadly strikes puff-adder unleashed
Marched on the tail; And duly follows,
A deluge of outrage poured forth
A horrified humanity the constant
Buffet round about these fast and furious
Merchants of death; Sooner, strong-opinion:
Presidents and Monarchs and Ministers and Envoys rose
In unison in their oval offices to declared
Our collective sense of shock and condemnation; 
They pledge solidarity against this cowardly bare-faced
Barbarism; Badly battered, you writhed in the pool
Of your own blood; But like a child of destiny,
The feline who had the magic number nine; Pogoed,
Undeterred right through to the world's foreground
With renewed activism, deafeningly vociferous more;

Is that you Malala, is that you in sneaky
Gul Makai's face?  Now, don't mention.
The gallantry displayed
Is a proof enough of your worthy descendant, heroine;
These gun-blazing perverts,
Speedily dispatching death's cocktail
The concocted of the Talibans;
Yes, delivered, eaten-full but survived
By the stroke of Mother luck;


Did you eat Witch whole Malala ?
Or a soul discarnate earth bound?
To dare lend a fearless position in that anonymous diary;
A mere girls' education affirmative stand; Where
Swayed the bloodthirsty beasts of extremists
Breathing down a country's neck threatening Fatwa
Upon souls suckled determined on teats
Of enlightenment and free-thinks. Though knowledge
Break dark boundaries of ignorance and lead
Ahead with inventive solutions;
They preferred bigotry.
You indeed hurt down their bone-marrows
Spear tipping the monster’s core inverted-vision
With such calls, Such innocuous request
Violently refused;

                  But if only they know
Your will is so unbreakable;
If only they know your vision's sharp and balanced;
If only they know you are
Burning with doubtless passion for girls rights;
If only they know it would be this fruitless
To seek your end through the gun barrels;
If only they know the story would hasten
The glorious spin; If only they could see the now future:
Where line of Presidents and Monarchs and Parliaments
Suspend business and pause and listen
And applaud girl rights advocacy
From same hardly audible voice from the Swat valley's corner
Marked for gags but failed;
Your tale is indeed fairy, mystically fairy, Malala!
Hang in there, hang in mystically. Heavy is your
Lyrical grace on the lips of the marching world and time;
The day's still young and the battle's sure to be long and drawn.
But let mark this for what it is:  Void is the spell
Cast to aid or foil destiny's probing sparks
As only divine self pleads its reflective finality.
The message is clear. The messenger is firm.

                                                            For Malala Yusoufza






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