Beneath the burning sky, dust choked air Horizon to horizon, in a river of stumbling footsteps We are walking We are a trail of blood and tears A single suffering entity, that stretches from sky to sky That slithers with languid motion, shedding dead skin.
Somewhere Back there beyond the horizon when this exodus began We grimly bore the weight of precious anchors.
Bleeding feet and aching bones Mouths parched from days of wasted tears We no longer feel the sound of weeping children We no longer feel We are walking - alive, numb, and blind.
Treasure and trinket, memento and remnant Now our shoulders are round from the burden of the dying Our heads are stooped with the burden of the discarded dead.
The long march from a long forgotten past We remember only a hundred thousand footsteps.
The past has bled us here We are distant from her ruined womb Reborn as infants in a storm of smoke and fire Screaming, blind, on hands and knees we emerged From our crushed chrysalis, bleeding and broken Crawling creatures without wings.
From this unending horror, we heal into twisted shapes Swathed in keloidal scars Misshapen forms seeking for shelter For nourishment in endless desolation Like the final trickle of a distant flood We are putrid remnants, stained by the endless miles.