
I have been formed by faith and OCD,
The former giving language to the latter
That quickly learned to chatter and to batter
My mind and heart until I could not see
That what I thought was freedom charged a fee
And pseudo-peace did cut, curse, cripple, shatter.
The tapestry was torn until a tatter
Became the whole of my theology.
But faith in God does not require perfection,
And grace abounds the more in misperception.
In his good time, he trimmed the troubled vine,
Redeeming days I lost to the infection.
Truth triumphed over every deception.
My peace and freedom now are his design.
Photo by Abram Goglanian on Unsplash







