Sara Letourneau



I want to go back to the place
where millions come and go every day
but runners cross the finish line only once a year
a public square where churches of stone
stand beside towers of glass and steel
on a patchwork quilt of grass, flowers,
wrought-iron stitching, and a brick border

I want to go back to the street I’ve walked myriad times
to visit the neighbors Emerson and Grub
to find the loosened bricks I’ve tripped over before
and to finally fulfill an overdue wish
of sitting in the library courtyard
with a journal or laptop and be my true writer self
for hours

But even more so, I want to turn left instead of right
at the intersection of Dartmouth and Boylston
and find the desecration site
where blood stained the sidewalks and screams rang out
louder than explosions

I want to stand there and wade in what was
throb with their pain
taste the salt and sulfur of their tears
hold their heads against my chest
because as long as they heard someone’s heartbeat
they were alive

I want to drink that afternoon through my tree roots
and cry in front of hundreds of strangers –
for this city bled as its people bled
and, like the neighbors and first responders
and other TV viewers, I bled as well
because our arteries were still whole
but theirs had been severed
because we still had two legs and two arms
but they did not

I want to go to that place
stare at the cement and asphalt
and reflect and pray
and know that in my harbor heart
eventually windows are replaced
sidewalks repaved
and bodies and memories,
though burdened with aches and scars,
heal as their spirits flit around skyscrapers and each other
reminding one another
that no one ever suffers alone


Sara Letourneau lives in Massachusetts. She has been published in The Eunoia Review, Underground Voices, The Curry Arts Journal, and two anthologies. She also has been a staff writer for Sonic Cathedral since 2008. Visit Sara’s website ( and Facebook page ( to follow her projects.