Call Me Mercy, Call Me Thief

Do not pray to me. Do not curse me. I have heard both from the same bed. I was born when life first learned that anything could end. No mother ever held me. No one taught me to pretend. I have stood beside each first breath. I will outlast the last. I do not make the hours move. I meet you when they pass. One voice says, “Please, take me.” One says, “Please, not yet.” Tell me, which prayer is mercy? Which one should I forget? Call me mercy, call me thief. Call me justice, call me grief. I close the eyes that made you tremble, and the eyes that made you brave. No one buys another morning. No crown rules beyond the grave. I am the last honest thing: everything that lives must end. I carry every ending. Every ending but my own. I sit beside the body that has carried all it can. One voice whispers, “Let them rest now.” One says, “I still need their hand.” Both are kneeling out of love. Both are asking me to choose. Tell me, what does mercy look like when every answer breaks a heart? Every crown is only borrowed. Every fist will lose its hold. Raise your walls and post your guards. Fill every room with gold. You may call me final justice when the cruel meet me there. But I take the kind beside them. I am equal. I am not fair. You ask why I take the gentle, why the cruel can linger long. You speak as if I choose the hour. I am the end, not what went wrong. Call me mercy, call me thief. Call me justice, call me grief. Some rooms break when I enter. Some rooms finally learn to breathe. No one buys another morning. No crown rules beyond the grave. I am the last honest thing: everything that lives must end. To the one who wears my shadow long before the body ends: I am not the voice that tells you you are poison to your friends. Pain can dress itself as truth. Pain can steal my name and face. I am certain. Pain can change. Let tomorrow plead its case. Would a kiss still feel as sacred if no kiss could be the last? Would courage have a meaning if nothing could be lost? Would living still be freedom if it never let you go? Would forever be a heaven, or the longest cage you know? Can you ask me to end suffering but never end a life? Can you make me final justice without making someone cry? Call me mercy, call me thief. Call me justice, call me grief. I close the eyes that made you tremble, and the eyes that made you brave. Some rooms break when I enter. Some rooms finally learn to breathe. No one buys another morning. No crown rules beyond the grave. I am the last honest thing: everything that lives must end. I carry every ending. Every ending but my own. I will sit beside the last one when the final daylight thins. They will ask me what comes after. I will say, “I’ve never been.” I have carried every ending. I have never been set free. When the last heart falls to silence... Who comes for me?