Rage and Redemption

I felt it once
the breeze that bore worlds
caught between a rock
and a crystal chandelier
she erupted through
moving, wailing, an explosion
of an assumption that she knew
that life was fair, and painted as a folklore
and the weather would never bring snow

She is the Shiva of these mountain passes
riding the black trails at night on her tiger
a beast and a beauty, a destroyer, a toiler
a mother, a slave, and a broken spirit

Did she know? Was she aware?
That the road was always broken
I wonder, and I ponder as grave robbers
plunder in wonder hoping to recover
something from down under
the chasm, the ravine, the promised
scent of a new haven, safe and sorry

She is the goddess, and she dances
she beckons and entrances
so that anyone who glimpses her
is drenched in her shower and shivers
wrapped up in a moment
of savage rage and redemption