These are your instructions
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Should you choose to follow
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Sit down with pen and paper
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Begin with something hollow
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Like the last words that he offered
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No kind of explanation
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They only take up space here
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You do not need to save them
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Open up the closet
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Find his winter coat there
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Check inside the pockets
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Find a crumpled note there
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It says a˘ć©«milk and Sunday papera˘ć?
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And a heart smudged in blue ink
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Fold it up and box it before you've time to think
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Sundays are the hardest
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Avoid familiar back roads
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Erase the old phone numbers
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Delete all the photos
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And those you haven't heard from
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Will come as no surprise
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They made their calculation
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When they chose a side
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These are your instructions
|
When you become reclusive
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When old friends say they miss you
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When sleep becomes elusive
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Fill up every journal
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Empty every shoebox
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Burn the lists and letters
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Sweep out all the old thoughts
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Shake off all the covers
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Throw every window open
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Stand here in your bare feet
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Welcome in the morning
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These are your instructions
|
When grace has left you stranded
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When you are lost and wounded
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Bleeding and abandoned
|
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Use a tourniquet for pressure
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Let time do it's healing
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Say prayers for good measure
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When you think you've lost all feeling
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Now walk into the guest room
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The last place he was sleeping
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See the outline on the pillow
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Smooth it without weeping
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One last final walk through
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Now move the bags and boxes
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From front porch onto back seat
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Haul away the losses
|
These are your instructions
|
If you choose to follow
|
Stop and take a big breath
|
Begin with something hollow...
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What To Keep And What To Throw Away
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Mary Chapin Carpenter |