River by glimmer22 on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Between around the ages of 12 and 15 I had (possible, probable, but never diagnosed) OCD. “Pure-O”, a kind that occurs without many, if any visible compulsions. Because of my thoughts I was terrified of my potential to hurt others and myself, what I perceived as urges to do so occupied my thoughts all day and kept me awake at night. Gradually it just left, without fanfare, although I was afraid of even 'remembering’ it for a while after. Four years later I had to put in fair effort to recall the experience enough to write this, and this is more just a reflection than a description.

Throughout that time I often called up the words of a Josh Wilson song, “Would you dare to believe / That you still have a reason to sing / 'Cause the pain that you’ve been feeling / Is just the dark before the morning” Although I had to come to terms with the fact that OCD might never leave me, I always hoped that one day it would be just a memory. But even if it didn’t I hoped in a greater morning, the one at the end of my life when I would meet my God and all burdens would fade away as if they never existed.

I wish that everyone would have that hope, and know Jesus as I did, “A very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). He is a light for the darkest of times. There is a river in another land That flows in a circle A marathon of flotsam

A current as swift as he who draws Us down with him Banks pulled back, a Red Sea to his maw

I slept there under twisting shapes Of the sky above the surface Clinging to nothing, with wounds to scrape

With Death beside me, conversing til The Arctic night was over We keep in touch, as friends, I see him still

Three years passing like a point in time Seized up in foetal position Shrouded for protection

A halted verse, an unfinished refrain The tapping of a pen The drumming in the Master’s head A TV glitching, again, and again

Chaos, normality with an axe A petition to forget Reaching out with bloodied hands To comfort with a net

Is evil within or all around? They are one and the same I wish I could imagine the sound Of a voice calling my name

The river still flows in a foreign land She drifted in-between sleeps Woke up a child with no miracle to gain Simply a life to keep.