At The Sea Of Galilee Poem by Gert Strydom

As the coach comes to a halt
the sea stretches to the horizon,
looking blue-green and cool
while the air conditioner chills the air.

Pilgrims, tourists and I
walk from sight to sight,
while the sun is piercing,
the wind thugs at my shirt

and everywhere there is dirt,
some poor people struggling,
some Arabs drinking coffee,
armed Israeli girls patrolling

while this fresh water lake
looks desolate
but in my minds eye
I can see Him on a boat in the distance.