Where are you Devi ?

Up in the Kailasha
in the arms of Mahadeva
snowclad silent in meditation
while down below in their settlement
humans in the belief you've come down
adorn you with flowers with their hands
and with those same hands **** own blood
rob own kin debauch mothers and sisters
crowd your place of worship with no piety
but for selfies with your image on the background
for Devi unbeknownst to even you
you're no more the Shakti
the prowess against the Evil
but a commerce, a commodity
in the hands of men of 21st century
who know to worship only money.

The music makes me
want to move freely,
bouncing in my seat
as I continue driving.

I sit smiling and singing
while strangers
might stare at me,
leaning oddly,
confused about how
happy I could be
to be driving
down a congested
city street.

This is not fiction,
cause my boss caught me
bobbing playfully,
he thought it was funny
that I was playing
so gleefully
while driving.

It is just this short life
requires that I smile or die,
that I force fun to come
instead having me run from
the horrors that hound me.

So, I when the mood hits,
I move and shift
in my car seat,
and dance stupidly
to the music’s beat.