Peter - John 1
So many ways I hear them, like waves in exasperation on volcanic shores, recoiling bursts like a street of slammed doors. A catfish barks. The empty space snaps closed, flattens my nose. I wonder if God has heard I’m unloved, or that I’ve overtaxed the flow of grace from our family name. Lava cracks. Shards in the undertow cool and harden into a useless rock that used to glow.