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Ashok Vajpeyi

Who Will Answer Our Knock?

Who will now take us
home to our happiness

Heaven is no more
Than a patchwork tent pitched
In air, earth, no more
Than leftover, sand,
Rotting moss, and bones scattered on
The bed of a vanished river

The green grammer of leaves
Has gone out of our
Memory, we've gone out of
The memory of birds

Who will answer our knock
When we leave this prison house
Whose echo will take us home?

Only trees know why
Words lose their music
And they
Will now remain still
Like sages.


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