Born where the concrete flowers Drink from pipes and call it rain Hands forgot the names of seasons People learned to hide their pain Everybody selling freedom Wrapped in plastic, priced by weight But my chest kept hearing birdsong Through the loading dock and gate So I planted little altars In forgotten cracks and stone And I learned that holy places Usually don’t announce their own And when my spirit turned to static When my roots forgot the ground I heard Her walking through the gardens Without making any sound Take me to Naya Where the walls breathe vines again Where the kitchens stay open And strangers become kin Mat’Selesnya Let me hear the Worldsoul hum If my hands still know the planting Then don’t leave me where I’ve become Karametra Mother of road and grain Teach me that growing slowly Is not the same as staying Take me to Naya Not paradise without sorrow Not a city made of light Give me neighbors with tired shoulders Cooking rice and beans at night Give me children with dirty sandals Running under fruiting trees Give me songs before consumption And enough for all to eat I don’t want a throne in heaven I want compost under nails Shared bread cooling by the window Stories louder than the sales Take me to Naya Where the strong bend down to tend Where the giant and the sparrow Drink together in the end Mat’Selesnya If the Worldsoul knows my name Tell Her I’ve been walking circles Trying not to harden the same Karametra When my harvest turns to dust Lay me in the rooted places And return me into us Take me to Naya Take me to Naya
