No harp
with which to sing.
No violin
or bells to ring.
The only music
I can make
is that of angels,
souls to take.
Their voices
fill the quiet air
of darkness
as I lay and stare
at cherubs
up above my head
gazing down
upon my bed.
No better way
to leave my fears
than songs that dance
inside my ears.

–Victoria Emmons, Transylvania, 2017