The Rosary

~I come from a Strong Italian/German American Family, and I grew up knowing that you respected Nonna, you stood by family, and when things got bad, you got on your knees and prayed~

I can remember

Her wrinkled hands

Grasping that

Crystal Rosary,

Fingering the beads

Touching the cross

Reflecting on the Crucifix

As she knelt beside her

Bed for the evening prayers.

Sometimes I would

Watch from a crack in her door

(I think she did that on purpose)

As she recited her prayers

But never out of her lips

Did the words sound mechanical

She spoke the language of love

And tears.

Nonna my sweet Nonna

Who taught me to pray

Who sat me on her knee

As a little girl

And would sing

‘Amazing Grace

Or How Great Thou Art”

The same sweet Nonna

Who warmed us with