Photo by Syed Ahmad / Unsplash

There is a stillness that hovers over zuhr

No wonder the salāt is read silently

It is like keeping the vigil

Under bright daylight

There must be a part of Jannah

That must be perpetually encompassed

With the light and stillness of zuhr

He who finds himself busy in the middle of

Peak hour at zuhr must be a madman

Mad from the hustle-bustle

At the wrong time

Like fishing on Sabbath

But every country dweller, farmer and herdsman

Finds at zuhr the perfection of stillness

And the one in urban or sub-urban solitude

Yearns for the stillness of zuhr

It is the stamp of silence.

Every humming of a distant bird

Sighing of a goat or faint song of a cricket

Is nothing but its repetition:

O Lord of Stillness! O Lord of Silence!

O Lord of creation’s

Quiet, musical, chords!

The most ceremonious of all sounds

Is the rustling of grass and leaves

Caused by the silent breeze

that parades through so generously

If it rains, it is the clouds’ song

Celebrating the moment

The sun’s heat is as merciful

As it were rain itself

Tranquility drifts under the sun

In the form of clouds

It is the time for reflection sinking into the ground

Like the day our bodies will sink into the ground

It is the moment for powerful dreams

It is the time for day-tears and verse

If ever Day is to win a duel against Night

It is the stillness of Zuhr that should be his weapon

That is the power given to the day

Even the silence of midnight surrenders to