A Cherub in The Dirt

       
          On March 26, 2015 in Manhattan near Second Avenue and Seventh street flames overtook and consumed a brick apartment building destroying the structure, and in the inferno, the lives of Moises Locon Yao and Nicholas Figeurora were taken. I recall hearing the news of the fire from my home in Nashville, TN, and when I incidentally walked past the undeveloped debris-strewn lot in August, I knew precisely what it was.

         
          Behind the chain link fence rests the two graves both marked with tire iron like crosses and small white cherubs. Traditionally, white cherubs are reserved for the innocent death of a child. Here, I think they reference the premature nature of the death that took both of these men. Additionally, the graves were outlined with the dross of the razed building. The overall material composition adds to the symbolism of the moment. At this intersection in the bustling hive of the East Village, people stopped to investigate the empty lot and the graves inside. While the intent of those strolling by, unaware of what they would see, was to not honor those people, that's exactly what was happening. The material used to construct their graves seemed at first to me to be insulting, for it itself was rubble. The site seemed momentarily disrespected by the trash heap just behind the grave stones. However, my feeling about the setting changed. The alternative statement made is that the material honors their memory as members of the East Village New York community. The simplicity of the grave and the passing manner in which they are being honored within such a busy city.
         

          The duality of the moment resembles to me perfectly the mixture of Buddhist philosophy of impermanence and the Christian symbolism of the cherub on the grave. The passing nature of the busy New York setting makes the grave sight seem a part of the larger whole. The community clearly respects and understands that the lot must eventually be built over, and so for this short moment everyone can respect the lives that were entangled and integrated into that community. This form of grievance, just as the city of New York, is impermanent. The suffering from grasping onto the forgotten isn't incurred by the Christian tradition either. The Cherub itself simply informs visitors that these lives were taken prematurely. The grave itself is made from the surrounding dirt and rock. Indeed, the infamous Christian metaphor from "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" personifies itself through the graves' materials while the Buddhists share this burial philosophy by cremating the remains of the deceased. Here, there is a clear integration of the two religions. And in fact, I find joy in wondering whether either man was Buddhist or Christian.
       
           If any truth lives in my interpretation of these graves and the merging of religious philosophy then, unfortunately, I have violated this beautiful brevity by stamping the graves, their symbolism, and the people they represent into this Blog.