To the editor:
Below is the poem I wrote called "All We Are Saying."
Actually barely whispering
As it's not a shout, demand
Rarely spoken out loud at all
Repeated often only in prayers
Silence cushioned by dismay
Plowshares have become many more swords
All triggers ready to pull
Peace never gets much of a chance
It's left off the table
The best negotiations aim low
Success seen in short respites
Talks drone on, the targets hit
The best survive to duck
Regroup for another day
All safe havens temporary
The world tilting more everyday
Half-cocked with all in the crosshairs
Always more enemies
Seldom finding friends.

Margaret Sampson