Yearning

As I closed the door
five in the morning
still dark
I felt at once
a yearning
freed from me
leaving a sadness
that slowly pulls down.

My mind fails to fumble
My heart unable to tell
the name
of this yearning
now
concealed
by a sea of oblivion.

After some months
after I left the congregation
I found it
after I hit my fist
on the wall of my room
in Santa Maria.

It was like a pupa
wrapped
by its own arms
and legs
eyes closed
sitting in darkness
there in the hole
where I left it
sleeping
still unnamed.