Strangers Like Me

By Arnav Mishra

In the heart of the jungle’s shadowed maze,

Dwells sorrow’s intricate craze,

Dwell them, who in endless night,

Seek refuge from relentless night.

Each soul bears a burden heavy and sore,

Etched with lines, theie faces implore,

But in unity, they find strength anew,

Together they rise, their spirits true.

In the canopy thick where darkness lies,

They lend their hands and dry their eyes,

For in another's pain they see their own,

In woe, seeds of hope are sown.

Through valleys deep, wordless echoes cry,

They climb, they strive, reach for the sky,

Their scars, not marks of defeat, but tales of yore,

Testaments to battles they bravely endure.

Onward they march, with hearts alight,

Guided by hope, through darkest night,

For they know, in the depths, lies a spark,

A flame of survival, a light in the dark.

They journey on, in rhythm and rhyme, 

Strangers like me, separated by time,

Ahead they face, through crest and through,

Victorious and bloody over fallen foe.

Faces like ours, same virtue and vice,

And sins aplenty, our hearts devise,

In jungles we thrive, with predator and prey,

With words we fight, with blows we say.

Strangers like me, I say to you,

That we are different may not be true,

On the world we make our mark,

Lone candles in bludgeoning dark.

We dreamt of peace, joy, a world without fear,

But life’s euphony draws a smile and a tear,

Suffering rain splatters on the sill,

As a flower afar blossoms still.

By Arnav Mishra