The Shout

They stood there like ghosts these apparitions. Survival was attrition- Eyes, like big black holes. Slowly ,barefoot , moved these emaciated Poles. The one in front ,raised his hand and pointed to that heap of sand. Skin hung on his frame; who was to carry this evil shame? He let out a guttural shriek! This shrouded and tormented freak. Had bid farewell to his next of kin- through the stacks this dreadful sin. With feeble walk he made the gate; aware that they had not sealed his fate.