THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE
by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
It is as if Yeats put a probe into the core of my heart
and wrote these words for what he found there:
a heartfelt desire to "live alone" and "have some peace there".
I cried and cried and cried.
In my deep heart's core,
I know I have been heard.
Just a glimpse into the
deep core of my heart.
A red running stitch outlines my heart.
Discarded red threads burst from
the heart's deep core.
Will it slam shut the heart's door
or will it open further
and allow the heart to heal?