Steven Schroeder | general order 3
Take freedom as an instance of the good,
toward which all things aim, draw a line through where
you are today and where you were the day before, and nothing
will fall on it that matters most on the way to freedom,
not an army marching but a river flowing to the sea.
When it floods, people will say
it has been diverted. But do not be
deceived. Its course is to the sea, every
flood a memory of water. Keep your head
above it, and nothing looks like you remember.
This is what matters most on the way to freedom
(an army in retreat, broken; a flood of refugees
that moves the way a rabbit moves when it knows
a predator is closing, fast, scattering broken lines between
this and that and here and there and now and then hoping
the predator will drown in it or grow bored; survivors
of a shipwreck, clinging to what remains, fragments
floating on a memory of water). Nothing
falls on it, and, between the lines,
broken, a proclamation
in accordance with
what you know to be true,
undeniable as Texas,
all slaves are free… an absolute equality.
Hold fast to this, say it goes without saying. Say it
again. Say it until Texas says it too, holds it, undeniable, as Texas.
Chicago
19 June 2022
