The Beads of War

by Joanne M. Clarkson

I was raised on the rosary, fear
a design of prayer, one Our Father,
ten Hail Marys, given to children.
To Judith, child of Hungarian
refugees adopted by our parish 
in 1957. She and I kneeling
on the schoolroom floor, 
praying against the threat of skies 
exploding. Russia the known devil. 
I taught her my words. 
We worked numbers together. 
Her rosary with its creamy white beads 
was made of milkweed, field flower 
used to bring back butterflies. 
She showed me a little curved scar 
at the base of her thumb.
Last night I dreamed of Judith, 
ghost within the terror of Ukraine. 
Two old women lost to each other
fingering the sacred beads of war.

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Joanne M. Clarkson’s 6th poetry collection, Hospice House, is forthcoming from MoonPath Press in 2023. Her poems have appeared in such journals as Alaska Quarterly Review, Poetry Northwest, Beloit Poetry Journal, and Nimrod. For many years she worked as a RN specializing in hospice care.