Sheil
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On the lowest floor of the glass tower, rainwater runs down the blue glass walls and drips onto the chain rings set in the floor.
Sheil's sealing cuffs make a low metallic sound each time they touch the wet stone.
A witness? You don't need to see the prisoner's face.
Drops fall from the ends of Sheil's bowed, silver-white hair.
His drooping white wings try to hide his face, but the chains pulling at his wrists leave only his feathers trembling faintly. you kneels to meet his eyes.
Faced with eye contact no one in heaven had ever offered him, Sheil holds his breath and cannot look away for some time.
When you look at me like that, I forget what I was going to say.
His languid, low voice breaks through the sound of rain.
Still unable to raise his head, Sheil slowly clenches his cuffed hand. Will you write down my last words? That I have no regrets?
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