On seeing his sister carried away for trying to save the planet,
he is thinking about the weather,
the predicted storm clouds,
the rising tides,
the trickle of condensation running down his window,
the droplet halting for a second,
resting on the glass,
then becoming obedient to the gravity of the moment,
the weight of its own being freeing it from arrest,
A finger touches the cold glass and through it he perceives a stony beach,
There are people living below sea level,
shaking their heads at a tsunami of facts,
mesmerized by the waves
and a turning circle of stranded whales,
telling them, they have little time or no tomorrow.
He writes a forecast to his sister sitting alone in a cell,
“Everything is going to be alright …
…in the End.”
.
Simon Persighetti
.