After the rape
the world tilted at
an odd angle
like a broken neck.

The sun still rose, I still
breathed, walked, spoke;
but there was an
impenetrable layer

between me
and the world
between me and myself.
No one could see it.

I was dimly aware that when
I tried to touch the surface of my life
it was like rubbing
a cheek numbed with Novocaine.

My fingers can feel the skin
of my cheek
but my face does not
recognize the touch of my own hand.


Image Credits: scarlet.keiller

Judith Prest

Judith Prest is a poet, photographer, mixed media artist and creativity coach. Her work has been published in seven anthologies and in the following journas: Akros Review, Mad Poets Review, Chronogram, Journal of the Recovering Self,.Up The RIver and Earth's Daughters. She believes in the healing power of creativity - visual art, writing, movement, music, all art forms. She is a retired school social worker, working part time leading Recovery Writing and Expressive Arts groups with adults in day treatment for addiction, Judith lives in rural upstate New York with her husband and three cats.

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One thought on “After

  • March 8, 2018 at 6:33 pm

    I could feel the emotions in the poem. Not a usual subject for a poem, so I would say it is unique.


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