I stood still like a painting would
in a gallery —
it doesn't move
but the people around move slowly,
some would stay for a while
and make me feel safe
when I'm most bare —
but fast enough to show
that a piece only moves
in memory,
and grows old
in the beauty of its cracksand the photographs —
they might live as a memento
often forgotten
and seen only as an aesthetic
for some instagram ghost to judge,
but I indulge
in the breaking,
slowly,
for there is pain
in the shedding,
and it would hurt
to leave a part of you
that stayed
Explanation: In this part of this collection, the speaker is "tired," and prefers to be still like a painting. He vividly describes what we would usually see in an art gallery, and the pieces of art that only seem to be alive in our minds (lines 9-10). He does acknowledge the people who "stayed for a while" that made him feel safe despite being vulnerable (lines 5-7). A painting being displayed in public is defenseless, and is therefore, vulnerable. The "photographs" symbolize the version of ourselves that people see, which might be important to a few, but would probably only appeal to most people if they need something. In this case, the poem doubles down on the digital era, specifically describing the public as an "instagram ghost" (lines 13-17). Yet, the speaker remains to break slowly, grow old with cracks, and live with the pain that comes with healing. More notably, the pain of leaving a past version of you behind.
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a collection of poems
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are original works of Joaquin Arig