#Poetry
In the stillness of dawn, just as the sun began to stretch its light across the sky, my grandmother would already be rising from bed, as if sleep had only brushed past her without ever truly settling in. Whenever I happened to be awake at dawn, I watched her rise with grace, moving softly through wuduu (cleansing ritual) before standing to pray Al-Fajr (dawn prayer). Then, she would sit at the table in the living room, open the Holy…
