Imelda May... Black Tears, Sacred Flame... Poem by P A Noushad ...

Black Tears, Sacred Flame
for Imelda May

A quiet storm in velvet shade,
Falls gently where the soul has prayed.
In black tears, sorrow softly speaks,
Of broken truths and love it seeks.

Your voice — a hymn from shadows drawn,
A twilight bloom before the dawn.
It stirs the ache no words can hold,
Where silence burns and dreams unfold.

My heart, a chalice worn and wide,
Now brims with tears I used to hide.
Each note you sing, a silver thread,
That weaves through all the grief I've bled.

Uncertainty — the sacred law,
The only truth this world foresaw.
Yet in your song, a ghostly light
Moves gently through my inward night.

A stream of grief, yet strangely sweet,
It flows where soul and sorrow meet.
Beneath the weight of time and sky,
It teaches how to bleed, then fly.

O Imelda, in your melody,
I taste the edge of mystery.
Not merely sound — a breath divine,
That dances on the edge of time.

You do not sing — you summon flame,
That whispers gently through my name.
And in your tears, I see my own —
A mirror made of flesh and bone.

So let your voice, like distant rain,
Fall ever soft across my pain.
An echo etched in soul and skin —
Where black tears end... and hope begins....