What debts we carry in this life— What debts we'd carry to the grave if not for small saving graces— Before we even think to ask, some last-minute kindness manifests. What debts we carry in this life knock blindly through the night: mumbling or keening, deepest grief bereft of saving grace. Our hearts wall up in vaults of our own devising. What debts we carry in this life pile stone upon teetering stone, as if to make a cairn for navigation. If not for small saving graces, we'd have lost our way; we'd be banks of burnt stubs and ash. What debts we carry in this life if not for small saving graces.