The destruction of Jerusalem brought a profound physical and spiritual collapse. The city's refined and pure inhabitants, who once lived lives of holiness, were reduced to shattered remnants. The harsh realities of starvation and exile completely erased their familiar identities, changing them beyond recognition.
The outward appearance of the people turned darker than coal [רש״י]. This extreme blackness is compared to dark ink or the pitch black of night [אבן עזרא, תורה תמימה]. The change was a direct result of grinding poverty, severe famine, and the cruelty of their enemies [פלגי מים]. On a spiritual level, this darkening represents the departure of the holy spirit and the light of wisdom that previously radiated from the faces of the righteous. Yet, this darkness was only skin-deep. Deep inside, in a hidden place, their inner holiness remained alive and was never completely extinguished [אלון בכות].
The physical transformation was so severe that people walking through the streets could no longer identify one another [ביאור שטיינזלץ]. The starvation led to horrifying physical deterioration, including hair loss and extreme malnutrition. The suffering was so intense that it became impossible to distinguish men from women, as they barely survived by sucking the remaining moisture from fruit [תורה תמימה]. Another perspective suggests this lack of recognition was also social and emotional; as the victims wandered in distress, no one in the streets showed them any mercy or acknowledged their pain [פלגי מים].
The severe famine and drought drained every drop of moisture from their bodies. Their skin wrinkled and tightened, losing its natural color [רש״י], and adhered completely to their bones [אבן עזרא]. Stripped of all vitality, their bodies became as dry as wood [תורה תמימה, ביאור שטיינזלץ, צאינה וראינה]. This physical trauma was mirrored in figures like Rabbi Tzadok, whose body never recovered from the endless fasts he undertook in an attempt to prevent the destruction [תורה תמימה]. Looking deeper, the way their skin clung to their flesh holds a symbolic connection to the very first human sin. Just as the peel of the Tree of Knowledge, representing evil, was firmly attached to its fruit, representing good, the skin and flesh of the exiles fused together. This physical reality reflected how deeply sin had attached itself to them, becoming an inseparable part of their very nature [אלון בכות].