Embroidering Flowers

by Ruth Aroni

I have a memory of myself in the garden,
Embroidering flowers
And soaking up the sun,
Gazing at the lush green grass
And the vines of leaves
Gracefully intertwining from
The massive oak tree.
I have a memory of myself in
The Chapel,
Chanting to God,
Then quietly meditating,
Bursting with joy
And hearing the sound of the
Universe.
I have a memory of myself onstage,
Twelve years old
In front of thousands of people,
In Cinderella
Singing and bellowing the words.
I played a mouse and got to
Be in almost every scene,
What joy...
I have a memory of myself
In the window,
Gazing at my reflection
And asking myself, "Who are you?"
"A poet," I answer
Again, "Who are you?"
Over and over again, "Who are you?"