There is no religion here, there is no moral.

Just cold, biting irony.
While in Egypt, hundreds of thousands march against oppression, here the soil of Indonesia is stained by the blood and ashes of the innocents and their homes.

I saw what they did, thanks to the Internet, I saw them hammering the neck of a bloodied, lifeless corpse, screaming the name of a god they betray with each word, each move.
The same breath that claim to detain the truth exhaling foul hatred, inhaling the blood's vapor and savoring a vengeance on behalf of...of what, exactly?
Small men, you know nothing, you see nothing and you dwell in anger toward what you don't know. You're scared and violent, mindless stampeding herd.
I ask you, what do you know of the truth, what truth is so brittle you need to carry it at the end of a stick?

And now I am calling you, Indonesian fellows, in which my faith held since the first time I set foot on your land.
By law, I am bound to silence when it comes to politics. I am a foreigner.
Look at me and see if I care.

I am calling you, who in 1998 toppled a regime in the name of your freedom.
That bloody cadaver, half prostrated, hopeless and barren, is one part of that tolerance you cherish, dead and still beaten on.
Open your eyes, open your mouth, act.

"What is this, a foreigner calling to arms? The nerves!"
No arms. I am calling you to ostracize violence. I am calling you to call, yourself, to those who might not see.
I am calling you to watch what they did.
Bear the sight, cry, heave, but don't close your eyes.

Look. Understand. God in not there, the truth is not there.
Just a group of people taking away dignity, lives and freedom.

I am nobody. But you might as well hear that call.
Because tolerance can be preached by everyone.
Ostracize violence, together, so no one can ever get scared of thinking, talking, or praying.

Posted via email from Walking down the dragon's back