Hope Hurts Poem by Tony Jolley

Left no stone unturned, fighting to be the father I am,
Though frankly, it feels more like ‘no turn unstoned’.
Pray God, may the years be kind.

Never stopped hoping – though the hoping hurts:
Weighs dull and heavy along the shoulders of the soul
Yet sharp as a blade, slicing belief from man into meat.
Pray God, may the years be kind.

My voice returns void: an unheard echo
Off the distant, implacable walls of regulation and mediation,
Those walls without ears,
Without hearts to hear.
Pray God, may the years be kind.

In what warped world can’t dads see daughters?
In this one, it seems;
In this one, where justice hides its face
And jaundice usurps its place.

Please God, may the years be kind …
…for the Law is uncaring and blind.