On The Fringe

No one knew the pain and loneliness in his heart That he had taken with him to the back of that room. Damian Gadal, CC BY 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons

It was where he was sitting,

In a crowd of people

Who seemed to be grouped together,

Some in pairs, talking intently,

Looking into each other’s eyes.

Others were in small groups,

Maybe three or four

All vying for the limelight

In what they next had to say.

And some were just sitting together quietly.

They seemed content to just be in the center of things,

No expectations to say anything,

Just taking pleasure in that moment.

He though was sitting in the corner,

On the fringe, right at the back.

To begin with, as he had entered the crowded room

He seemed hesitant, looking around and slowly

He walked to the back, where he carefully sat down.

He busied himself with finding a place for his bag

And getting comfortable, sitting forwards in the chair

Still looking around.

After a few minutes he seemed to relax a little

As he resigned himself to leaning back in the chair,

Where his senses were now somewhat limited

To all the busy chatter going on around him.

At least here no one should notice him,

That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

Yet after a few more minutes the noise was getting louder,

All he could hear was noise, more noise,

Yet no one was hearing him,

No one knew the pain and loneliness in his heart

That he had taken with him to the back of that room.

Maybe that was why no one came to sit by him.

He heard laughter and it seemed like thunder

Bang, bang, bang, it grew louder until

He could stand it no longer and suddenly,

He stood up, grabbed his bag

And made his way to the door.

No one knew he was leaving, how could they?

When they hadn’t even known he’d arrived.

Reviews

[Christine]

Wow, I wasn't thinking of an autistic person when I wrote it, but can really see it could be. Interesting having another person's perspective.
Thank you for the review.

[Zoe Richardson]

Okay, I don't know who this poem was written for, but I would wager a million invisible dollars that he is autistic. Crowds are hard for us. We can't speak what we feel, so we cling to the edges, hoping someone will notice and bring us into the center of activity. It's not shyness. Once we know what the crowd is actually gathering for, we can interact like an extrovert. Inside, though, we always feel lonely because other people are a code we cannot crack. Thank you for raising awareness of those who, for whatever reason, just want to be included. Make us ever mindful of the needs of others!