Ganesha's hand

By the end of the day,
we are older and it's undeniable clear
how much we need angels
and mantras as the wind kisses the chimes,
extracting unheard symphonies
from blue butterfflies.

it's still early
but ganesha waits for me.
he knows i stiill carry you
like a lovely burden,
like a portable holy pain
because it is easier to suffer
and blame the clock for not
moving forward
than facing the jealous moon.

you might wonder
if i am tired of myself.
the answer is: yes, i am.
and i am tired of my beheaded fears
and of all the dangerous wounds
revealed every day
when my body touches
your distant land,
feeling just the essential.

but ganesha waits for me
and his hand holds my heart
as if it was a treasure.
and there lies my mystery
and rendemption.

karla bardanza