mecca

face east or west or whichever direction is the direction you need to face
face the point you seek, that floating point
that pin on the map you're tied to by a thin, thin thread

face in the morning, your chest just grazing the ground
feel your ribs pressing into your thighs, your knees digging into the dirt
your shins doing whatever shins do

face in the evening before sleep
palms up, or down
outstretched anyway, that’s important
arms stretched out, outstretched, relaxed, at length, laying there those limbs
just bones and sinews and tendons
not grasping, not tense, not taut, just laid out

when you’re young face grudgingly, because you’re told to
in your rebellious phase face nowhere
when that’s over face again
with passion

face for others too
to reflect goodness
to tower
to glow
like you’re the last member of the species
or the only one there ever was

when you get older face slowly, methodically
but don’t stop
when you die have yourself buried facing in one direction or the other
allow for the drifting of continents
they'll drift until you're facing the wrong direction
so leave a note
have someone turn your coffin every so many centuries
or just wait for your continent to drift all the way around again
so that once again you face east, or west