Along the river's edge

Along the river’s edge, in the wash of morning violence, 
I reflect.

The carer, cowed by brutality, revealed her faith,
Praying there and then that peace would find my mother,
The obverse, seemingly impossible.

The response, selected from an arsenal of suchlike:
“Shut-up and piss-off out of my house!”

“Are you a Believer?” came with grace and doggedness.

“I’m a Catholic!  All our family were Catholics!”

I mull which kind, struggling to avoid meeting like with like.

Peace flows deep and inexhaustible beneath an upturned mirror,
In whose liquid sheen lies truth.

Bumping over cinders, curving around couples and their dogs,
The revelation comes.

No expectation beyond beauty, bar oblivion.   

And peace finds me rattling down a river path.

Grateful and content.