To the 7th generation that will inherit this world.

I hope all of you will have a peaceful and relaxing life.

A time with an abundance of food and fresh water.

I hope you will not have many hardships and strife.

I bet you everything will be easier for you with advances in technologies.

I hope you will live longer with better healthcare.

Your generation will look back in history and ask yourself what is the measles?

I hope you will not have to worry about the future and be scared.

Scared of what the future will hold for you and your loved ones.

I hope you will finally be able to make our distrust for each other fade.

A time where the differences we had constructed will be a thing of the past.

I hope you will forgive us for the mess that we made.

You will most likely not have what I mentioned above.

I am sorry you must fix the issues that we caused.

The divide that our governments created separate each other.

I am sorry you must put all your dreams on pause.

So you can fix our pollution and tear down our walls.

I am sorry we have failed to give you a brighter future.

We were too busy fighting among ourselves to realize what we had.

I am sorry we took away your chance to go on your own adventures.

We dug a deep hole and now we need you to dig us back out.

Prose Haiku Poem: We Hear Them

 Music in the air We hear them in the distance a soft whisper in our ears We hear them in our sleep as we try to forget the harsh reality of war We hear them in the dead of night when everyone huddles together for warmth We hear them through the cold winter winds the sound of pain We hear them over the gun fires through the cries of loss We hear them over the wails of children and the sound of bodies dropping We hear them when the air planes fly over heard the screams of families We hear them from the forest the lone piano played by a suffering soul We hear the tune of pain the sound of reluctance We hear the soldiers marching from the forest the sound many dread We hear them over the loud gun fires We hear them as we scramble to escape with love ones We hear them over the screams of victims and the wails of children We hear them from the soldier's voices as they shouted at people to move the sound of suffering We hear them despite our own suffering at the hands of others we are not the only ones that are suffering We hear them in the air the conflict between morals and orders We hear them from the soldiers everyday men and women ordered to end the lives of other men and women We hear them from the forest the peaceful melody of a lonely string instrument We hear them loud and clear the sound of pain from everyone present We hear them from their hearts a melody played to share their story.

What is your word?

Blue

I look up at the cloudy sky. It will be a storm tonight and when there is a storm, there will always be a large amount of rain fall. In this region of the world, large amounts of rain will end up as floods that threaten our safety and security. I give the ominous clouds another look. Oh how I wish I can see the light blue sky again. In those times, no one feels threaten by floods or the anxiety of losing their homes to the storm. In those times I would no  be gathering  the sand bags in the shed and put it around my home to keep the water at bay like I do every year when the storms pass by this region.

Taking a deep breath, I open the doors to the shed and grabbed the nearest sandbag near me. The heavy bag felt rough and the odor of decaying wood filled my nostrils. It makes me sad to have to move those bags outside for everyone to see. It is a sight of fear, anxiety, and sorrow. I find it somewhat comforting to know that I at least tried to protect my home from the floods that would soon happened every year. It gives me a little hope out of this sad and gloomy atmosphere around me. I stare at the sky again with a hopeful smile on my face. After this flood, the blue sky will return again and with it, the end of this year's nightmarish flood season.