By Zach's father Simeon
Zachariah's Song
Here I lie awake, alone, in the dark. Helpless, hopeless, restless. No peace or respite in this house of death. No joy or laughter can be heard.
Rest and comfort elude me, pain and sickness are my only companions. This life, this body, has failed me, the world has tried in vain to save.
Men have only succeeded in poisoning me. My blood runs toxic, my vomit burns, and nothing here can help.
The blood that once carried life to my heart, now only brings decay. The food that once renewed my body, now brings only sicknesses, repulsion, bile.
There is no aid here. Nothing that can calm my sorrow, nothing that can ease my pain. I linger on in weakness, pointless and unending.
My nights are filled with groaning, my days a blur of tears. I have exhausted all crying. I want to play again, to leave these fears.
I must look to heaven, to the twinkling stars that bear your names. For I have nothing left here to call my own, nothing that I want to hold.
God, you have taken this life, you have not spared my suffering, have not eased my pain. You have not given me care, or shown me renewal.
Yet this is the way it was meant to be. This is how it is, and nobody, but you, can change this. I cannot rage for lack of strength and will.
Who else can I turn to? Where else can I go? There are no answers here, no cure, no help. I'm compelled, drawn to your pierced feet. Your bloody hands.
There is no love that can cross this chasm, but yours. No hope that outlasts a heartbeat, but yours. No faith that holds, but yours.
So I must put my hope in you. I must put my life in your hands. I must trust in your rest, because there is so little left here, there may as well be none at all.
I wait for you. A journey I make alone, with the multitude. A destination without end. A life I have not known. New, free, good.
