Levels and Parts
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
Psalm 42
We are the ones we have been waiting for.
June Jordan, "Poem for South African Women"
When we moved to our house in Mt. Airy, the first place we found on Craig's List, we bought a grey plastic toolbox. We keep it under the sink for when we need a hammer, measuring tape, scissors, wrench, screw-driver or level. They call it a "spirit level," for the tube of yellow ethanol inside with the air bubble that slides as things lean one way or another. We used the level to hang our Ketubah above the fire place, a collage our friend Nava pieced together with textured tissue paper pomegranates, sunflowers, olives, anemones, poetry and sheaves of grain, each letter of the egalitarian text inscribed by hand. This year we have been sliding back and forth between cities, bubble-like, arriving, departing, thirsting, waiting. Learning to feel at home in our love and its moving parts.
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