She stepped outside in summer’s blaze, The sun a furnace, sky a haze, Clothed in obedience, wrapped in light, Invisible armor in daylight’s fight. Fabric heavy, heat severe, Yet her intention crystal clear, Not for culture, not for show, But for the One who sees below. A drop of sweat slid down her skin, A silent jihad fought within, No crowd applauded, none could see, The weight of quiet modesty. That single drop, that hidden tear, May rise on Judgment Day sincere, A witness saying, “She endure