Mata Hari
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The girl from Leeuwarden, Netherlands
Born on August 7,1876
Was not a spy,
But fell a victim of political vendetta,
The French who used her,
Mistook her for a spy
Of Germany,
Charged with passing information.
But was a simple woman
Who lost her mother
At an early stage
And was the daughter
Of a hat merchant
And it was her helplessness
Which turned her
Into a flirting mistress
And an exotic dancer.
Her bouts with the age-gap
Drunkard captain husband
And as the diplomat's wife
Turning her into a dancer,
A mistress
Was perhaps her destiny,
The writ of it
For which she suffered too
And dangled in between sorrow and happiness.
Her Oriental stance and dance
Swinging to the Indies
And their influence
Pertaining to the temple style,
She carried with
The exotic touch and flavor
Apart from the sensitivity of Holland,
But the cavalier travel and liaisons
Wreaked havoc.
Never a German spy,
But a misunderstood girl
She was
Whom destiny always tossed with,
Took to exotic domains,
Made her not live peacefully,
Btu at the hands of the drunkard husband,
A life fraught with friction and tragedy
And she finding shelter into the hands
Of another just for to be used.
And oh, finally Mata Hari,
Margaretha Geertruida Zelle
Was shot dead,
The daughter of
Father Adam Zelle
And mother Antje Zelle,
When she was fifteen
Her mother passed away
And she turned into
A shelter-seeker.
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