Allahu Akbar.

It sounded like a warning,
like love in a war zone.
Like the call you never return
because the voice that called it
was taken to the sea
and did not return.

I woke up drenched in rosewater and sweat.
The kind of sweat that, lives under veils.
The kind that stings like salt on faith.

I think the prayer was for me.
Or for someone like me.
A woman with hair still wet from ghusl,
who lights incense so thick
the dead mistake it for a path home.