The Ribbon in the Sky Was a River

Rio Abajo Rio

The ribbon in the sky was a river flying above us. The river twirled as it moved from the east to the west. In a fervent denial of how much space the west takes up in its route, the Andes rise up—plate smashing against plate—to send the river to the site that many refuse to admit unlocking great knowledge…the South. The cool andes push the flying rivers South—as in the portal that proves time & time again to be a map of righteous refusal.

The ribbon in the sky once used to be called a flying river where 20 billion tons of water glide through the air. The river glided (flying high) before we transformed it into a ribbon. Ribbon—as in tactile visible fabric that can be tied, held, & used to pull or hold something down both beautifully & tautly. Ribbons don’t fly without the helping magic hands of humans making it appear to move on their own. The deception of wondrous waterways attempted to be imitated in the ribbed fabric of ribbons.

If the flying river had a rib, it would be the Indigenous folk who give it the space to move freely without the need to pull, hold, or capture it. I think that may be what love is. I think love is a river in the sky—a thick & ever-present moving force that

[swells
           &/] r e l e a s e s_

[expands
               &/] s e t s f r e e_

[inflates
              &/] e m a n i c p a t e s (liberates_

ourselves & others in a regenerative cycle. This cycle denies the project of the west to chop down people, plants, & non-human living kin through persistent trust that the ancient cycle cannot be broken.

“The West is not in the West. It is a project not a place.” — Édouard Glissant

Love as a river keeps us oriented towards a vision to rain down on everyone. The ribbon in the sky is a river re-routing us toward a love much closer to its true essence. Our love is a river in the sky that deserves to roam & be called its true name.

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