LGBTQ+ Poem: Promised Land Haibun, by Lou Jent

Oh, cherry blossoms
have no imposter syndrome,
don’t wait for autumn

or any other season to/ be known as beautiful and/ loud while they are doing / it & remind us
there/ are more stunning & more/ Native trees in the forest/ they also were taken to/ line
highways in perfect rows/ or stand like decorative &/ silent & always un-moving
servants/ outside the homes of the/ well-to-do so this /

is not a cherry
blossom poem this is for wild
redbuds & dogwoods

& for domesticated ones too/ because it’s just
like how/ I have never known anyone/ I couldn’t somehow show love/ to I can always imagine/
my tree sisters back home where/ they feel their belonging best/ &
we are all living and drumming together

we can bring cherry
to a promised land when we
find it: gatu’gi

for gisehun’yi a life we/ all been seeking since the/ before doesn’t someone else out/ there have
this same dream/ that when the lights go/ out again in Georgia &/ here in Carolina & near/ the
Mississippi where I first / saw my mother’s face/ & I first saw my

mother’s face blooming
the color of flowers,
black and blue roses

the few next days they/ turned to the shadows &/ to that truth which I lived when everyone/ else
was sleeping- a deep violet / fading into a deep – i
can’t remember red / don’t y’all have the same
dream that we / all walk out of that darkness/
glowing the light that was / stolen from us and

then we get flowers
every day, our gardens
lit by our bodies

harvesting only because & when / we want to?/

Cicely wants flowers & because / I love her, I go
to my little plot / by the river under the big / redbud & I grab somea them too/ for her salad & i
get back/ to the house & she / is lounging while she reads & she / has got a pot simmerin’
because she / loves to cook for us because we / love her food & the big one / is playing with the
little one keeping / that teething baby from fussing & after / dinner we will take some / to our
neighbors & we will talk / til the hommade wine runs dry / these babies do need their rest /
honey don’t we all deserve / our rest? Don’t this sound like / it’s been such a long time/
waiting to give the flowers back / the colors, give our bodies back / our suns & moons? Oh, I see
it

it, it’s on its way,
like a season, my heart
songs, and so soon.
Keep dreaming when I can’t no more. That

is coming soon, too.

(by Lou Jent)