DUNE

“Once men turned their thinking over to machines    
in the hope that this would set them free.    
But that only permitted other men    
with machines to enslave them.”  
― Frank Herbert, Dune  
   
When they released the remake of Dune    
it took me the longest time to watch;    
in protest, I eschewed the very thought    
that a remake could be more astute    
than an original, 1984 classic.    
   
But critics and fans soon negated    
my obstinate doubt.    
I realized I was being closed    
-minded and judgmental    
over something I knew nothing about.    
   
Because patriarchy assumes all forms    
and openly exists    
throughout the world    
destroying the old for the new.    
   
Somewhere on Earth    
there is someone    
whose face is behind a computer    
screen amid an office cubicle.    
Their palms pressed    
into the wood of their desk    
so hard they stain its surface.    
Blood trickling backward    
from a tooth-pierced tongue.    
   
They've spent a lifetime    
trying to conserve the water    
of their tears and sweat,    
breaking their back    
for whatever corporate moguls      
demanded of them.    
   
They believe so strongly    
that someday a prophecy will come to pass.    
One that will deliver them    
from the grasp of oligarchs    
dumbing down the masses.    
   
“It is so shocking to find out    
how many people do not believe    
that they can learn,    
and how many more believe    
learning to be difficult.”    
   
Yet they look up and wait
to be delivered.
     
Last week, someone    
died in a protest against the machine.    
They just lay there,    
cradled within an arid energy,    
feeling the last bit of humanity    
caterpillaring out    
through the stillsuit    
of their veins.    
   
Somewhere there’s another    
perhaps on a street corner    
holding a sign as a weapon:    
“Fear is the mind-killer”    
Their fingers wrapped as tentacles    
around the last bit of truth    
written on dirty cardboard  
in permanent marker.     
   
And yesterday
someone hid their despair    
behind sunglasses    
and a smile full of teeth    
before walking into a desert    
named suicide with nothing to drink.    
   
Others just stood there    
cradled in the tragedy    
of a wasted life    
not understanding why    
they couldn’t be saved.    
   
But friendship can feel like a cage    
where one must conform    
to everything being okay.    
   
What good is living a cliche    
under constant oppression of a clique    
“When the real universe    
is always one step beyond logic.”    
   
Rebellion is a creation    
of freedom, a form of moisture    
forming an impossible arboretum,    
an oasis of knowledge    
in the desert.    
   
Each individual creation    
can bend space and time    
to mine the spice    
that sustains their life.    
   
All the creator needs to do  
is to find the right moment    
to push back    
and conquer the giant.    
   
All we need to do    
is allow the shock    
of their action    
to bear witness    
to a different direction    
by a new generation.    
   
Trust that they exist    
for such a moment as this.    
Because sometimes necessity dictates    
the old be destroyed    
so that new can be born.    
   
“The sleeper must awaken.”    
refers to those who believe    
they are chained to a desk;    
and those looking up, waiting    
instead of learning    
and creating.      
   
But mostly those who are closed    
-minded, infected with judgment and doubt    
over things we know nothing about.    
   
~