To breathe in this waxing love of light and shadow, I decide that I cannot be defined by the pandemic, the people who left, the monsters that still lurk, the witches that turned their backs, or the close calls with cliff-etched memories.

I am the moon.

And she is not at war with me.

I am not in search of her.

Reflect the waxing moon.

Goodbye to the waning year.