My name is Ben.
When you look at me
You will measure me
. . . by my awareness
. . . by my response
. . . by my age
. . . by my development
And you will shake your head
And find me lacking.
But for me, you are measuring
With the wrong cup.
For I have one possession
Which brims and overflows
Beyond all others.
I have my parents' love.

This cup they give me hold also their
. . . agony and helplessness
. . . waiting and hoping
. . . tears and pain
. . . aloneness and fear.
But in the end, all these are swallowed up
In the deepness of their love
Which now, in each same moment,
Both lets me go
And will never let me go.
So measure me if you must . . .
But measure me, too, with my cup
And you will find me
Full.