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.