Cindy
by Nina Herrmann

 

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 holds also their

… agony and helplessness

… waiting and hoping

… aloneness and fears

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.