In the name of my daughter, in the name of my son.

The sun shines in the sky… even heaven is happy, a jewel is there… in the company of her constant guardian and keeper.  The wind blows no more… time is in mourning for the death of her… who died as a martyr.

The Glorious Virgin Mary…now when I see her dusty image, I feel terrible pain; she watched her son die, just like me… because I was not there, but I saw my own flesh and blood dying in my mind. So is the same, we are equals in pain; the only difference, is that she was a magnificent mother… while I was worst than a boar with my own offspring.

How can I go on like this?  How can I face life? How can I obey the King that killed all I loved and cared for.   Alas, I know I deserve this pain… because I sent my children towards power like a commander send soldiers to war; and I lost them, I allowed it.  The shine of power is so overwhelming, so seductive, and so addictive; that makes you a slave with no will or conscience.  I changed my motherhood for gold, and now I lost it all.

Life is not worth living anymore…and yet, I must keep it, I must pray, I must clean my soul, because I still have the hope of being allowed to go to heaven and see them again. But if that wasn’t the case…I would jump from the highest balcony of this convent, and fly with a smile towards my death.  This pain is unbearable… I murdered my children long before the King; I signed their death sentences in the moment I agreed to make my daughter his future queen. Oh Anne… My Anne, my greatest gift, my lovely child.  I saw the light of power in your eyes since the moment you were born; so strong, so talented, so eager to face the world; and yet… so fragile, so gentle, and so sensitive.  My poor Anne; forced to hide her kind heart, to act as equal as a King.

Anne; the center of my heart… is gone.  Her beautiful presence destroyed by a cold sword; her smile erased forever; her dark eyes closed… mutilated in the most horrendous way.

One thousand days…in one thousand days my Anne achieved the crown of England… and found her death.  Fate is talented in the art of punishments; all this pain, all this hate, all this sadness; and all in the dark name of power.

And George… my only son; my gentle boy; ambition corrupted you, like it happened with your father… he showed you the way towards damnation, and I allowed it.  My George, my son… I knew so little about you; but I dare to say, that now you are happier in death, because you will be close to Anne as long as you wish, for eternity. My Anne and my George; I can almost see the two of you playing in the gardens of Hever;  My George always teasing Anne… daring her to do this and do that, and my Anne always took the challenge, every single one.  And between them, my Mary; the only daughter I have left… the one I neglected, the one I abandoned because of my pride, my arrogance, my cruelty… Mary; if you are the way you are, is not because of you, there is nothing wrong with you, it’s me, my failure as a mother, caused your failures as woman.  Forgive me Mary, wherever you are now I hope with all my heart that you remember the fate of Anne and George; and keep yourself far away from here, never return to court, not even for Elizabeth… since she is a lot better without us around.

Elizabeth… my sweet Elizabeth; I will pray, as long as I live, for you long and prosperous life for you.  You will be queen, you will shine as your mother did, and you will be greater than your forefathers, you will take England to a Golden Age.  Be like your mother in beauty, temper, kindness, wisdom and charm.  Please smile like she used to, enjoy life like she did before she met your father.  Be strong my angel… you will need it to face the world you live in. God Bless you my sweet granddaughter; I know I will not see you again, but I keep you in my heart, and I will pray you, always.

But now… before I take the task of clean my soul and get rid of all the darkness in my heart; I will say I final curse to those who condemned my children to death.   Henry the VIII; I hope you lose all you get after the death of my daughter, may the son you desire never reign as a glorious King, I hope Elizabeth achieve that, in her own way; better her instead of the son he wants, it must be her, and no other!   I hope Jane Seymour suffer as much as my Anne did, but slowly… painfully; because she is a traitor, she is a heartless opportunist, with an innocent face. At least my Anne never hid her intentions; she was like an open book in this Kingdom; but she was so misunderstood; so bad treated.  And Cromwell… Thomas Cromwell…. The vulture behind this bloody act.  For you I desire the cruelest of punishments… in fact I hope you lose your head, I hope the King becomes your curse; you deserve a great humiliation, a memorable death; if I could I would do it myself, but I am defeated… too weak to act on my own.  And for you, my dear and hated husband…. I hope you die alone and in misery; if that happens at least we will share the same fate; together in richness and poorness; like in our wedding vows, until death. As for my brother… may you suffer hell here on earth; death for you would be too easy, merciful; and you do not deserve that.

Something in my heart tells me that Henry the VIII will suffer for every single drop of blood that my daughter and my son lost in his name, in his tyranny, in his cruelty.  I can feel it inside me; he will die in misery of spirit… he will no longer be the man he used to be; he will be diminished, betrayed, mocked and treated with indifference by the rest of the world.   He will never be happy again, never… all his dreams will fall; I declare that this will come true in the name of my daughter, in the name of my son; and in the mercy of God, that knows that I speak the truth.  Now I must pray….

Grant unto us, Almighty God, in all time of sore distress, the comfort of the forgiveness of our sins. In time of darkness give us blessed hope, in time of sickness of body give us quiet courage; and when the heart is bowed down, and the soul is very heavy, and life is a burden, and pleasure a weariness, and the sun is too bright, and life too mirthful, then may that Spirit, the Spirit of the Comforter, come upon us, and after our darkness may there be the clear shining of the heavenly light; that so, being uplifted again by Thy mercy, we may pass on through this our mortal life with quiet courage, patient hope, and unshaken trust, hoping through Thy loving-kindness and tender mercy to be delivered from death into the large life of the eternal years. Hear us of Thy mercy, through Jesus Christ our Lord – Amen.

God is our hope and strength,
a very present help in trouble.

Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be moved,
and though the hills be carried into the midst of the sea;

Though the waters thereof rage and swell,
and though the mountains shake at the tempest of the same….


My heart is too weak… how can I pray when my soul is so dark with evil desires… the pain is too deep to bear, the injustice…. Is more than I can handle.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes;
and there shall be no more death,
neither sorrow, nor crying,
neither shall there be any more pain:
for the former things are passed away


Please Lord; clean my soul of evil wishes…even when they make me feel powerful in front of this terrible sadness… I must clean myself of all sin if I want to be in heave one day with my children, because I know they are there… in the magnificent presence of God.  But alas, in my heart, I still desire the damnation for those who killed my children; in the name of my daughter, in the name of my son; I really hope they find their path towards misery, devastation and death.

Mercy Rivera

Mercy Rivera is a popular short deep introspection fiction and non-fiction history writer composing in both English and Spanish. Mercy is also well known for her beautifully crafted historically themed videos.

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