Separation, a Query Sonnet

Do you know where your son is? Your
daughter? Does worry for them pour
from your mouth like a cataract
into the pool of your chest, racked
open to the sky, your heart torn
from its home there, its old path worn
by the flood—gone, it seems, for good?

This is where I know they once stood.
Here—in this spot—they blew candles.
As we try to get a handle
on our world without them in it,
we pray and still we wait and sit 
with the empty notes of our song
echoing…echoing, then gone.