A Peace Therapy
Yesterday an envelope came crashing at my door.
“We wish to inform you your application for draft exemption
has been denied.” There’s something funny about the letter.
It almost feels like the author was struggling to hide his sorrow for me.
And if by chance he’d written “we regret.” Well, that would have raised my eye brows
and I would know there’s at least one honest soul in the army.
But it can’t be. I still suffer from my last nightmare, still thinking my tank is hit and
I’m burning inside. Don’t they sense that inside my skin?
“You’re traumatized by war without experiencing it first-hand,” says my therapist, still
insisting I’m eligible for exemption.
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