Five degrees until Fajr

Naqi Rizvi2026

stillness is a pitch louder than silence i hear the gentle crackling of her knees the soft ruffling of the floral bedsheet the faucet opens—runs, then quiets winter settles heavy on the eyes the distant echo of the adhan breaks ground on these frozen eyelids. the cold bites, paralyzing each stiffened muscle—before i can thaw i hear her gracefully lay down her pink padded prayer rug— the beads of her acrylic tasbeeh plucked to the rhythm of her gratitude there she sits like ember making home from breaking rays she gathers me into her warmth

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