Broken Sanctuary By Sarah Street

Broken Sanctuary

It was almost a comfort
to know that                            we could still dissolve
into ourselves.
The truth
is that a body too familiar            with this earth,
with its knife-cut borders and
hand-carved hills and
days so holy                                          we start to believe a god exists,
is a body too long rented –                                   a body that
unravels into
tendons and
bones thick
with maggots. Once, in the                                       imperfect
part of the sea, the body          could                                                     float;
it could weigh itself                                                      like it weighs
its own blood, in teaspoons,
then in buckets.                                                                          And
its face looked so perfect                                                and real,
muscle so pink
it looked almost                                                        gummy.
But we, too,
were fooled
when it crumbled into dust.

By Sarah Street


Sarah Street is a junior and Writing Fellow at the Westminster Schools in Atlanta, where she also writes for the school newspaper and edits the literary magazine. Her poetry has been featured or is forthcoming in Aerie International, DoveTales: An International Journal of the Arts, Just Poetry National Quarterly, The America Library of Poetry, and Live Poet’s Society among others. Sarah’s work has been recognized by the New York Times Student Poetry Contest, the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Writing for Peace Young Writers Contest, and River of Words Poetry Project. Sarah’s writing frequently explores themes of children’s rights and social justice; she is passionate about promoting diversity, advocating for human rights, and inspiring unity through writing, music, and community service.

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