The first time I saw him was in the 90’s, when I worked as a receptionist at the health department. He was a little man with white hair and a serious expression. He said he’d cut his leg and needed medical treatment. He didn’t know that the health department only treated Sexually Transmitted Infections, dispersed birth control, and gave immunizations. I said we couldn’t help him but directed him to the emergency department of the hospital across the street.
The next time I saw him, he was walking down the busy avenue I used to live on, just a few blocks from my house. He had a pronounced limp. He lived in a small addition attached to a carpet remnant store. He had his own entrance. I saw him frequently over the years, always alone, always somber, shoveling or sweeping the small section of sidewalk he claimed as his own.
His limp worsened over time, until he rocked side to side with each step. I’ve wondered a million times whether he ever walked over to the the emergency department, and if he did was he turned away? I wondered why he was so alone. I don’t remember the last time I saw him.
Lonely on the fringe,
neighbors live separate lives
forever strangers.
top image by Boss
My offering is a combination of #3 and #4. I’m not sure why I chose them. I hadn’t thought about that little man for years, but he arrived unbidden as I pondered what it’s like living on the fringe.
I am today’s host of dVerse‘ Poetics. I say:
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to choose one of these paths:
1. Write a poem using the word edge;
2. Write a poem that keeps Millikin’s question above in mind;
3. Write a poem using the word fringe;
4. Write a poem from the fringe, however you define it.
Whatever you choose, please indicate your choice # somewhere on your post.
As a bonus challenge, please tell why you chose the one you did.
Tao Talk 
Mine seems to be a combination of #3 and #4 too, Lisa! This is a good prompt for a haibun. I love the way you brought the man to life with your description. The haiku is very touching and, sadly, true.
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Many thanks, Kim. My heart went out to him and even today I wonder why I never reached out to him.
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I can only imagine how it must be to live like that, the tragedy is that there might have been very few that ever noticed him…
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Bjorn that’s exactly what it seemed like, he was so alone.
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My heart went out to this poor character, shuffling along on the fringes of life! I hope he didn’t end his days alone.
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😦 I hope so too.
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I wasn’t sure if we could choose more than one option.
This is so sad. You’ve written a very vivid and poignant piece. I wonder now what happened to him, too.
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You can write to one, some, or all, Merril 🙂 Yes, I do too.
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It breaks my heart how easily some people seem to just slip out of society, often through no fault of their own.
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Yes, too often 😦
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This guy is so real. A perfectly executed haibun, Lisa. Congrats.
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Thank you, Ron. I hope he’s still out there somewhere, but no longer alone.
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What a heart-rending tale. I wonder how often we pass by someone on the fringe without ever recognizing them and offering recognition;. how many such stories are to be told in any homeless camp.
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Thank you, Beverly. I’m guessing there are a lot of them. If I hadn’t seen him that day in the health department I’m sure I never would have noticed him on the street.
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That’s really sad. The way you described him, I can really imagine it, Lisa
Yours,
David
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Thanks, David.
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Lisa, this is hauntingly beautiful, and touchingly sad Lisa — great write my friend… and the halku, excellent.
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Thank you, Rob
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What a sad story Li. You’re so right, we are mostly cut off from people around us. Everyone is too busy.
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so deeply sad, they are the type of people I try to engage with … homeless sleeping rough, the beggars in India. Sometimes a smile or wave really makes their day. Others are up for a chat …
you painted his life so poignantly Lisa, well done
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Kate, bless your heart for reaching out to anyone who needs a connection that you come across.
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think I’ve done it since I was born, often feel more comfortable with the fringe dwellers than mainstream
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A great Haibun Lisa! The story is so heart wrenching, and your haiku really socks it to us in the last line! Well done.
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Dwight thank you
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We all have lived too many of these parallel lives. Sad and beautiful all at once. (K)
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Some people just lock themselves up from the world. I hope he found some happiness.
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me too Max
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Your haibun moves our hearts, Lisa, for this stranger on the fringe…great post and prompt!
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Lynn, thank you very much. I hope he can feel that goodwill energy, wherever he is 🙂 ❤
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I know this is off topic for this post but I am also a Taoist and am excited to read tao inspired art.
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This pandemic has exposed a lot of vulnerable people to the harshness of living on the fringe, or the edge (both terms fit). A man of indeterminate age who always sat outside the supermarket, is no longer there. I’m not sure if he’s still with us or not. This is a lovely poem, Lisa.
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Your comment is heartfelt. So many. Thank you.
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What a powerful and moving haibun, and such an indictment that our society doesn’t see the fringes very clearly.
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Thank you, and I wish it wasn’t so.
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Lisa, what a heart wrenching tale nee a real life story. The character seems so real. I am sure you still feel the pain of not reaching out to him. Many of us do. Superbly executes story__ a great haibun you have written. Many congrats!
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Neel, thank you. Yes, I still feel his loneliness and guilt for not reaching out, at first and later.
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Neel, I just tried to open your poem’s link at Mr. Linky and it opened to basically a blank page. Do you want to try to re-link it?
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I felt this in my heart Lisa. Beautiful and touching.
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Thank you very much.
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You’re welcome. 😊
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A very touching account Jade. One often wonders what lives these sort of forgotten persons had before. They could be anywhere along the spectrum of rich or poor or privileged or otherwise. Thanks for a wonderful prompt, Ma’am!
Hank
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Hank thank you for your insightful comment. Yes, they could be anyone, everyone, in a particular convergence of circumstances. You are most welcome.
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This has such a sadness to it. Your words depict desolation and loneliness in an almost visceral fashion. The haiku is the perfect complement to the prose for this haibun. It’s interesting. When we lived in Iowa we always knew our neighbors….even when we lived in the country. Doors were kept unlocked. As a young mom I was out on the sidewalk and front yard with my two little ones as were the neighbor women on either side of me. In the house I grew up in on a dead-end street, there were only 8 houses. And although the owners were of different generations and ages, every summer they had a “block party” and blocked off the entrance to the street, put up picnic tables in the street and everyone came. The adults (again, of different ages) had halloween and Christmas parties too. So very different for us now living on the 7th floor of a high-rise in Boston. I know only 2 other “doors” by name — there are 16 condos on each floor…our doors open to the common hallway; in the middle of the hallway are 3 elevators and the “trash door”. These are neighbors…but I rarely even see them even though we literally live on the same floor. How different from our life in Iowa. So the haiku at the end resonates with me. Very different from this gentleman you describe as I don’t believe anyone on our floor lives on the “fringes” yet we don’t connect either.
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Lillian, my apologies for the late response, I just found your comment in my spam folder. Thank you very much for your lovely comment, and times have changed for sure. Up to the age of 10 I lived with both of my parents and they knew many of the neighbors on both sides of the street on our block but were never what you would call neighborly with them except for the ones on either side of us. When my folks divorced my mom and us kids moved to a very different neighborhood; one that was filled with kids our age. Us kids became friends with the kids in a 2-block square. Not so my mom and new stepdad. Our family was the one most likely to get CPS called on them but back in the day neighbors didn’t do that. When mom, stepdad, and family moved out to a rural community (I was 16) I stayed in town with my dad. My mom and stepdad got to know pretty much everybody in the community, at least the ones who frequented the small town’s bar as my mom was the main bartender down there for years. I moved out to that community the next year but then moved back to my home town a few years later.
Sorry people are not as neighborly in the condos. Maybe when the pandemic lightens up and everyone is vaccinated things will get more friendly.
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There are so many like this on the fringe. “neighbors live separate lives
forever strangers” is so true. You relate this well, Lisa.
And thank you for the prompt.
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Thank you and you’re welcome, Ken.
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This breaks my heart …. beautifully presented to your reader.
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Helen, thank you much.
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Lonely on the fringe,
neighbors live separate lives
forever strangers.
Painfully true, elegantly penned.
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Thank you, Zelda.
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Most welcome.
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