Diminishing Light: Poems of an Incest Survivor

Why is the word ‘incest’ so off-putting?

Literature often tells us incest is a crime of the ignorant and backwards. Not of educated or affluent people. Not of the attractive or charismatic. And never mothers. We don’t like to thing that teachers, pastors, community leaders, or any of these trusted people could be capable of something so horrible, but incest is a crime that hides in ‘respectable’ places. Our deep uncomfortableness requires the accuser to be punished. So we lash our at them, isolate and call them ‘crazy’. All for threatening what we prefer to believer.

I am familiar with these tactics.

Incest doesn’t begin or end with sexual acts. First, the prey must be ‘groomed’ by calculated, trust building experiences either within the family or outside. Then, the predator can hunt without much resistance.

Incest continues to poison long after the acts have ended and from great distances, working to protect the predator and discredit the survivor. This aftermath is difficult to bear.

These poems are not graphic, so as not to re-traumatize survivors, but are to honor the child and intended to comfort and invite discussion. What I want to say to my fellow survivors is, I believe you.