left discarded on the floor
next to the table where we sat

clanging as I walk
drawing attention with each step

judging what lay bare
covering me in shame

It’s Hard to Remember

“Some days I remember and some days I don’t,” she says

her face tight, and her eyes pained
Her eyes are drawn out the window, to something far away
“Some days I think she left me,
other days I know she is dead.”
The weight of her words fall between us
Her eyes drop to the floor
“It gets confusing,” she mumbles.
“It is easier to think she left,” I say
She nods her head
then studies her hands, causing her red hair to cascade over her face
Through the waterfall of hair comes the smallest of whispers, “then she can come back.”


My heart hits my ribs with crushing blows
My breath is trapped in my lungs
I feel the weight of my fear
As I try to move
“I am,” I say as I struggle for breath
“I am an adult
It is only a memory”
My body does not believe the words
I feel it constrict beneath me
And my eyes dart across the room
I find myself peering through the crack in the door
Waiting for the inevitable
“You are safe,” I hear the words
But there is no truth in them
This left over fear
wrecks my body and tortures my soul

Rebecca J. Hubbard's Poetry


She knows better
    than to hope
She knows better
  than to dream
She knows better
   than to wish
She knows better
  than to get settled
She knows better
   than to reach out
She knows better
   than to draw near
She knows better
  than to unpack her heart

The Crucible and the Commander

 Ten by ten
One-way in
One-way out.
Windows line the north,
no line of sight to the south.
This crucible commanded by
a tiny woman in a chair
anchors the souls who dare to visit there.
Light from the window falls upon her face
shinning on the mixture of curiousness and peace,
Her eyes fill with compassion and just as easily dance
when she finds something intriguing or humorous.
There is an easiness about her
and a Gibraltar kind of tough,
when the flames around her swell and pop
and the going gets mighty rough,
she quietly settles in.
The only sign that she notices
is the rise of her chin.
Her steady gaze reaches across the inferno
settling lightly on the other side,
saying “We can make it together.”
“Don’t give up.”
it’s alright.”
“You are safe in this place
where the flames dart and dance
in these walls you are given another chance
to heal your wounds,
to spread your wings and
 to find the joy that connection brings.”

Rebecca J. Hubbard, MS, LMFT, TF-EAP-D

Not Me

Sobs escape from under the door
muffled by the distance they must travel
She stands small and frightened before the door
Listening, holding her breath
Aware of her mother on the other side

Without knowledge she vows
Never to be vulnerable
Never to be hurt
Never to be a prisoner
Not me she speaks loudly and forcefully deep in her soul
Far from her consciousness

She reaches out and takes the monster’s hand
Aware of his power
Aware of his ability to hurt, to harm, to ruin

Not me she says in her prayers
Not me she says as she drifts off to sleep
Not me she says as she walks through the sunlit days
Not me she says as she wraps her arms around the monster’s neck
and he carries her away

No Body, Know Peace

Here, I stand, alone.
The world light years away,
my eyes my only connection.
 I cannot feel my hands, my feet.
I cannot feel my heart,
surely it is beating.

I am calm,
completely detached.
No feelings penetrate the vastness.
Maybe I am spirit, ethereal,
free from the bondage of a body;
free from the burden of emotion.

I see a face in the distance.
It seems to be from another place.
The voice comes to me in waves,
distorted from the distance it must travel.

I want to reach out to it
and I want to stay safe in the warmth of nothingness.
If I move the spell will be broken
and I will be flooded with pain.

No! No! No!

Little bits of yellow stare up at me
from the brown strands of carpet
I hear “No NOOOOO rising in my head.
I feel the fear as it moves at lightning speed
 from the yellowish brown strand into me
I have done this
made the yellow mix with the brown
That is against all rules
I hear a voice that is not mine
Screaming “NO! NO!”
My body hums,
the room spins
all my limbs are in motion
I sense movement above me
My arms go over my head
the screams gets louder
I cannot stop the screaming
that is emanating from my mouth
I cannot stop the spasticity of my limbs
as they pound the top of my head
I am a hostage of fear
Nothing can erase it,
it lives here
fresh and deep
among the strands of carpet
and the desire to be good

No Place to Land

She isn’t a car
She isn’t a shirt
She isn’t an old shoe
She isn’t a half eaten sandwich,
   welted lettuce, soft tomatoes
She is a girl

A little girl,
who needs and wants,
hopes and desires,
dreams and wishes,
creates and loves
Whose only request,
  to have a loving family;
can’t be met

Tossed here
tossed there
no soft place to land

A Part of Him

 His small body stands taut as he clutches the belt to his side
A man's voice booms from his small chest, "You want this? Do you???"
His face is full of rage
His body begins to tremble as he waits for an answer
The room is silent
He bellows, “I said do you want this!”
He raises the belt for emphasis
and snaps it in the air
The smallness of him is replaced with an image of a man
For a moment one forgets he is only a boy, small and powerless
   abused by a ruthless father
He stands in the middle of the room
    commanding it with his body, his voice, and the belt that snaps in the   

Replaying over and over the domination of his father


Every day I pass you
With my hollow eyes
You do not see me
With my raggedy clothes and knotted hair
You do not notice my thinness
Or the circles under my eyes
You do not notice me silently begging you for help
From you I learn what my father says is true
I am worthless,

no one cares


Deep hued darkness
trunks and branches
looming shadows
deeper still
Thousands of eyes staring
unsettling my soul
On off they beat
realization turns to gentle awe
as joy wells up in my soul







Broken bones,

Gaping cuts,

Staring eyes,

Cold skin

Flashing lights,


These are the memories my daddy left me


He sits, his small body
hunched over a toy lion
pretending to study its features
His face motionless
His ears deaf to his mother’s cries
His eyes blind to his mother’s tears
His heart hard against her immense pain and her unspoken shame
He lingers, sitting on the divide
between two worlds
one of pain, one of normalcy
His small body only a shell,
a ghost of its previous self
Gone is his connection to himself,
to his mother
He floats between these worlds
present in neither
Invisible to his mother
not seen
not heard
vulnerable in the tumult of her pain
flooding the room
drowning his life


There is a hole where he should be
that sometimes seems like it will get filled
but it is always a hoax
He appears and leaves on a whim
and like an old scar that aches when it is banged against
he leaves me hurting
I wonder why I ever try
why I open myself up
when the outcome is always the same