Blown Away
The Victorian spinning wheel at the top of the stairs
was carved in South Wales
around the time this house was built.
Somewhere in the carpenter’s breath was a flicker
of the blue I chose for the walls when I stripped them
to go with his dark wood.
When I’m really ill
I’m either not listening, or
I’m listening so deep I am stunned.
Monks spend days shaping mandalas
with coloured sand in intricate lines
as an offering, then blow them away.
This poem doesn’t want to be published
or honoured as good but has its own job
to scurry around
until it alights
on that reader
who can blow all the words off the page.
Dechen Shaw lives in Scarborough. She recently graduated with distinction from the MA in writing poetry at Newcastle University. As a playwright (Lucy Shaw) her work has been performed at Stephen Joseph Theatre, Jermyn Street Theatre, RADA and Whitechapel Gallery.