Backbones Rising

I saw them, there were so many young and old sick and broken a sea of black bodies hunched over and shuffling through a thick dense fog of worry and bewilderment their heads bobbed in unison wafting and dipping a learned behavior of survival unable to carry anything with them but the truth their value had been reduced to the degree of sweat dripping from their brow their faces were creased like old church folding sweat fans many had backs and arms burned and sliced drizzling with the infection of indifference their legs were puffed and swollen and skin stretched tightly around ready to burst their eyes darting nervously as they stumbled forward slow steps the fog smelled of damp bitter earth it clung to their sweat-soaked skin their calloused feet trudged over a muddy marsh of body and blood of brothers before them each step echoed horrific screams of last breaths taken trapped forever in death in the stillness of that humid hunted night I saw them all dislocated backbones rising cracking and jointing they plodded onward to a stoic melodic murmur marching towards a brutal deliberate fate the muffled sounds heard as skin shivering words that sorrowed my heart a simple faint whisper of “Why do they hate?”