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