Rosary

I used to watch her pray     
            green beads in soft palms
she worked herself to the bone at the denim factory
            but when she came home
her rosary was waiting.
 
I used to open her jewellery box
             and hold the rosary in my hands
breathing in her prayers for the aiga to prosper
            for the rose bush to flower
for life to be easier on her granddaughter.
 
We used to go along to midnight mass      
            and watch the women show their children            
angels painted in the windows      
            while the congregation rose 
to sing Christmas hymns.
 
We said goodbye too soon
            the house lost her scent
but the roses bloomed
            and I went out into the world
with her rosary.