Julián Verdugo
A Sonnet to EMDR
Emma, my therapist, sits there. Like I’m not reliving the worst day
of the war. Her white noise machine staring, practically glaring,
my tinnitus still blaring. I’m talking through my gunner dying.
A twenty-one-year old’s version of applying first aid after an explosion
from an enemy hand grenade. When I get to the part where he falls apart,
I start crying. I’m trying to keep him alive but even when I get everything back
inside him, I can never quite revive him. Where is my glory? It’s the first time
I’ve gotten this far in the story and it’s gory and boring, my emotions are pouring
out like the viscera leaking from my battle buddy’s body. My trauma
is a bomb going off, and Emma pulled the pin, filling my lungs
with pre-ambush fumes. I’m huffing and puffing in this stuffy office,
the only thing louder than me is that God damn sound machine
she leaves on, so I can lie to myself and pretend like no one can hear me
ugly cry. Why do I even come here? I hated the fucking war.
“I wrote A Sonnet to EMDR while thinking about how strange it is to sit in a room and recount war with a therapist. The setting is quiet but the memory is loud.” —Julián Verdugo
Julián Verdugo is a retired U.S. Army Medical Sergeant who served in Iraq, Kuwait, and Afghanistan. He holds a BFA in Creative Writing and is currently pursuing an MA in Spanish at Bowling Green State University in Ohio. His work explores war, fatherhood, and mechanical life. When he is not writing, he is usually in the garage tuning small engines for the VerLa Racing Team.
