Vik Muniz. Death of Marat; after David. 2005
See the beautiful man lying - unshrouded -
In a small sunny backyard. Lying on a heap
Of mute trash and toxin, shrouded in noxious vapor -
Ugly offsprings of his own abnormal doings.
See how sad he looks in his death moment,
The face not allowed the peace and grace
Allowed to one and all a mortal sinner.
See also the bright child frozen mid-leap
As if a parting sculpture for someone.
Child, someone said you were the father of man.
You perhaps bore the wrong man this time.
See also the woman, his mother
Whose battered face betrays radiant beauty.
Burned by her own bounty and kindness.
Behold Now,
Some law granting her Justice
As she becomes justly the angry Goddess,
Savoring her revenge as she keeps alive
Her defiler - the dying man's headless ego -
While she takes his innocent heart
Like a morbid ritual's sacrificial offering.
Wake up dear Man, rise above this unclean dying.
Be a Man. Own up. Stop puerile denying.
You're Hercules and Hanuman's father.
Let this be a silly dream that went deadly wrong.
Death can be a noble song. Die with honor intact.
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