Meaning?

I’m not even sure I’ve lost something,
But I can feel a void,
And I wonder who’s to blame,
Monk sanding a coffin while it snows outside,
Girl huddled under her desk
With her eyes shut during a tornado drill.

Please reveal it to me
In a passed note, a whisper.
The monk stopping for a minute
To poke a new hole in his belt,
A spider in the corner,
The static on the radio station.

Or make me whole again,
Although I’ve probably lost nothing.
Wind picking up a woman’s dress,
Flipping pages with a draught
Down a chimney, the great pine
Forest in the North where mountain men
Froze in their tracks.

I stand here at the gate with my mouth open.
Can I expect to be given anything?
My hands are so blue
I have to hold them over boiling water.
Oh mystery, attenuated absence,
Transfer a little heat to my skin.