Text Box: # The InitiativeText Box: Catch my babies When they are born, Sing my death song, Teach me how to mourn. Mother, heal my heart So that I can see The gifts of yours That can live through me. Wood thrush feeding her young Wood Thrush Jane Kenyon High on Nardil and June light I wake at four waiting greedily for the first note of the wood thrush. Easeful air presses through the screen with the wild, complex song of the bird, and I am overcome by ordinary contentment. What hurt me so terribly all my life until this moment? How I love the small, swiftly beating heart of the bird singing in the great maples, its bright unequivocal eye. From Constance (1993) by Jane Kenyon, published by Graywolf Press. Text Box: The hungry shoppers will come to touch and grab weigh and price and take with them. Exactly what they need. And when they have left his department, his store They carry home his bounty and fill their mouths and their stomachs. His day not over it begins again rough, wrinkled hands reaching out to the avocados the potatoes and the icebergs who have never floated in the sea... Text Box: The following poem quoted in DBSA President Sue Bergeson’s Mental Health Blog, http://www.healthcentral.com/bipolar/c/9994 She Who Heals—An American Indian Healing Prayer Navajo sand painting Mother, sing me a song That will ease my pain, Mend broken bones, Bring wholeness again.