I stood blindfolded, standing before
a rotten, dead body, perhaps.
My gut twisted horribly
from the stench of the decaying corpse
of someone I didn’t know—perhaps.
A lieutenant stood a few meters behind me,
pointing an LMG at my head and said:
“What do you think?”
“Listen carefully—
your thoughts are a matter of
life and death. Now, speak.
What do you think
about this rotting dead body?
What do you think?
Is it a he, or is it a she?
What do you think?
Was it a Muslim, a Christian,
a Buddhist, a Hindu, or a Jew?
What do you think?
Was it black, brown, white,
Or somewhere in between?
What do you think?”
Then the lieutenant screamed:
“Why you ******* silence?
I’ll give you a count of ten to decide,
and then you’ll face the consequence.”
He began to count:
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,
four, three, two, one; zero.”
“What is your last wish?” the lieutenant asked.
I replied, “I want to see the rotten dead body.”
Someone removed my blindfold,
and I saw it was no one else—
it was me.