Poetry / Deaf ears

Deaf ears
by Veronique R. de Jager

Scattered they lie,
strewn along the empty
corridors of my mind;
these flattened-out remnants
of long-since chopped down trees.

What purpose have they,
but to carpet the cold tiled
floors of my mind;
these newly-adopted children
of a paperback.

They cannot show me Your face,
or satisfy the maddening
desire of my mind;
these pretty-printed words –
in Times New Roman.

Though I search for all eternity,
I will not find You in my mind:

For where are You, Lord,
        but in the quiet recesses
        of my soul?
Where are You,
        but hidden amongst the elements
        of my innermost.

Juxtaposed against the juvenile
        desires of my heart:
of which whose dreaded children
        do cry and wail,
        ‘till lulled to sleep
        by the continued monotone
        of their own
        vocal
        utterings.

After which follows
the wearied retiring
of my own outer shell;

And…
        at which the well-known protests
        of my hungered soul
        on deaf ears do fall.

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