The speaker keeps choosing the margins. They'd rather be beside the road than on it, and they side with the person who announces over the one being announced. Each image pushes the speaker a little further from the center of attention. The funniest is the fly rubbing its legs together on a coat collar in the middle of a ballet: tiny, unnoticed, and slightly out of place amid all that grace.
The later lines turn warmer. The speaker is a friend to people whose feelings come out sideways, who curse when happy and sing when sad. In the last image, someone slaps a hand on a starched bible with heavy, self-righteous force, and the speaker sits with those who blush and look at their feet. They stand with the embarrassed, not the loud and certain.
The mood is quiet, wry, and sympathetic. There's humor here, but also a gentle loyalty to people who don't fit neatly into formal or pious scenes. The title, "Barakah," suggests a blessing, so the poem may be offering its own kind of blessing to the overlooked.