Confinement

As if they had been thrown together 

to mix and mingle

and tell their past. 

Where hardship and turmoil is expressed on  

every face and body 

like soldiers returning from battle. 

Their bodies are pressed and contorted,

and sticking out in poses 

sharper than the barb-wire fence

around their death trap.

They have no dignity,

for the wolf  

snatched their trappings 

along with their pride

and existence. 

Their death was welcomed,

for the agonizing days of life 

made giving up so much easier.

What they did not know

was that death 

would not free them from their trap.

For their weathered flesh

would be united with the other bloodless

people in a dark, dirt hellhole. 

Mass graves are even more confining than the camps.