Nearly 170,000 people die in the world daily-estimating to about 60 million individuals a year. This number is abstract until you ask the mourners, identify the mourning, and become one who mourns while trying to live. So, where is the grief education? Where is the initiative in the public health sphere to not simply teach "How to Mourn" but "How To Go on Loving?" Where is the health policy that protects the time scientists say we need to grieve? There are a number of people at this moment grieving as you read this-perhaps even you. Grief is a natural response to loss; however, our society's imagination around bereavement, honor, and slowing down to fully acknowledge death's impact has been stunted by the enormous expectation to push through and grind for capitalism. This poem captures moments navigating the silences of grief, tending to the shadows of mental health breakdown, learning to chop among the trees and stars. This poem serves as a timestamp of a winter visit to the woods, processing themes such as death, dying, letting go, transitioning, and letting go again. This particular poem was generated from a prompt received on December 10, 2021, while participating in a Death Ritual. The day's focus was forming a practice and expressing death as art thanks to artist, facilitator, and Love Extremist, Ethan Lipsitz, for prompting me to reflect on our mortality. To learn more about Ethan Lipsitz and this movement, visit extremist.love or www.deathfriendsforever.com. To view the original version of this poem, see the supplemental material section of this article online.