Cope is helping me cope

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said 'do the best you can with these, they will have to do'. And mostly, against all odds, they do.
~Anne Lamott

Tabatha, you ask, when will you stop being angry at corrupt politicians? Verily, I say -- never! This week I was so spitting mad about Brett Kavanaugh that sometimes I woke up mad in the middle of the night. Dang it. Two poems:

Differences of Opinion
by Wendy Cope

1.

HE TELLS HER

He tells her that the earth is flat —
He knows the facts, and that is that.
In altercations fierce and long
She tries her best to prove him wrong.
But he has learned to argue well.
He calls her arguments unsound
And often asks her not to yell.
She cannot win. He stands his ground.

The planet goes on being round.

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When I Rise Up
by Georgia Douglas Johnson

When I rise up above the earth,
And look down on the things that fetter me,
I beat my wings upon the air,
Or tranquil lie,
Surge after surge of potent strength
Like incense comes to me
When I rise up above the earth
And look down upon the things that fetter me.

Black tern by USFWS Mountain-Prairie

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The Water's Edge has the Poetry Friday round-up today. Thanks, Erin!