Mr Silent Poem by Francis Duggan

How can we even gauge his I.Q. if to us he cannot speak
If he always sits in silence every day of every week
In his wheelchair on the verandah near where the cars pass to and fro
He is known as Mr Silent by all of those who of him know.

He's been diagnosed as autistic to go with his physical handicap
Yet he does seem inoffensive he's a very harmless chap
When his neighbours wave in passing and greet him with a 'good day'
He don't seem to recognize them or respond in any way.

His I.Q. way below average at least that's what has been said
But how can one say he's not clever or what thoughts are in his head
Since the authorities on human behaviour the door to his mind cannot unlock
Who is to say he's not a genius struggling with a mental block? .

Taken care of by his widowed ageing mother she feed and clothe and bathe him and comb his hair
He's as helpless as a baby and in need of constant care
The psychologists have formed their opinions that he has a low I.Q.
But since he has never spoken to them would they even have a clue? .

In his wheelchair on the verandah he sits quiet as quiet can be
Perhaps listening to the shrike thrush singing on the blackwood tree
And seeming to watch the cars passing on the roadway to and fro
The man known as 'Mr Silent' by all of those who of him know.