I wrote this poem about sexual assault and how survivors may respond to physical touching afterwards.

Are supposed to be these warm things
Embraces of love and care
Arms locked around your shoulders
Hands pressed against the fragile bones in your back
Are supposed to make you feel calm
And welcomed, held and cared for
But at times
Hands on my skin
Feel like ticks crawling
From beneath seven layers of brown
Like strangers
Reaching out to me from dark places
Like gusts of wind
Ripping my voice from my mouth

© Ama Akoto (2018)

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