ode to Arafat

A man is known by what he leaves behind him

A line through his life
had been drawn at the end,
Had he been a better enemy
then he had a friend.

Had he given hope,
or merely added to despair
Would the crowd now crying
in months really care.

He'd searched for a homeland
to bring his people life,
yet still the bombs of hatred
added to the strife.

And as he met his maker
what to him could he show.
Maybe one day peace, Yasser
in the desert might grow.