By Madanu Pavithra
He walked into the room, eyes full of light,
A dreamer with hope, though ready to fight.
Elected to lead, a voice for the crowd,
But the shadows came quickly, cruel and loud.
Fists found his body, words struck his soul,
Yet he stood again, though they made him feel small.
I tried to be there, a listening ear,
But what could I offer when the world was unclear?
He spoke of his pain, the injustice so deep,
But all I could offer were promises to keep.
His dreams were shattered, his title erased,
Yet he carried on, though his heart was displaced.
There was no rescue, no savior to be,
Just a young man, standing, defiant, yet free.
They tried to break him, to bury his fire,
But he rose from the ashes, fueled by desire.
He didn't need power, didn’t need the crown,
He found strength in rising, not staying down.
In silence, I watched, helpless to fix,
But in his resilience, my own fear did mix.
For in his struggle, I saw my own fight,
A lesson in courage, in facing the night.
Though I could not change what he’d been through,
His journey gave me strength, and a path to pursue.