Reflections of the Middle East

I walked in the chilly morning air through the shadows of Petra.
I heard the clamoring of chariots through Petra’s slot canyon.
I felt the spray of the Sea of Galilee as we sailed at night.
I was wakened by the call to prayer in the dark morning hours.
I heard the roar of the river at Tel Dan.
I dipped my toes into the sea at Caesarea Philippe.
I walked among the red poppies at Beit Lehi.
I strolled through the herb-scented pastures of Nazareth.
I glimpsed the ancient marble streets of Damascus from a Golan Heights’ hill top.
I smelled the fragrant almond groves around Tiberius.
I sat among the ancient olive trees of Gethsemane.
I sloshed through the wet streets of the Old City, the smell of fresh falafels filling the air.
I bartered with good natured shopkeepers over the price of baklava, tapestries and scarves.
I was jostled by children on their way to school in the streets of Old Jerusalem.
I was dizzy with the scent of heavy spices in the Jerusalem marketplace.
Sunlight stung my eyes when I left the quiet cool of the Garden Tomb.
Juice ran down my chin when I bit into a just-picked orange.
My pulse quickened as I stood where Jesus was mocked and scourged.
My heart wept as I joined the throngs of Orthodox Jews at the Wailing Wall.
The rosy sunrise kissed my frozen face as I stood on Mt. Sinai.
I awakened a sleeping camel on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.
I purchased warm sesame-coated knotted bread and hot falafels on the streets of Old Jerusalem.
The wind dance through my hair at the ruins of Caesarea Philippe.
I descended into the tomb of an ancient Egyptian King.
My feet felt the grit of the sands around the pyramids.
My head spun and my pulse raced in the crazed traffic of Cairo.

An ornery camel challenged by balance on the dark trail up Mt. Sinai
I stepped into holy places at the temples of Kings at Karnak.
I faced the sphinx and stared her down.
I walked along the Nile in the early morning hours.
I sat at the Damascus gate watching peddlers prepare for their day.
I dodged strange trash collection vehicles darting in and out of Jerusalem alleys.
I made eye contact with Bedouins herding their sheep.
I watched packs of wild dogs running wild in the Jordanian desert.
I saw Egyptians tend to their crops just the way their ancestors did a thousand years ago.
I longed to stroll invisible through the streets of the City of the Dead.
I bobbed, covered in black mud, in the salty waters of the Dead Sea.
I sat on the Mount of Olives and listened to stories of Jesus.
I sat – sunshine on my neck – in the spot where Jesus taught his apostles at Banias.
I climbed the steps where Jesus walked to his trial.
I stood in the shade listening to the waters of the River Jordan.
My heart broke as I wandered the solemn rooms of Yad Vashem.
My eyes gobbled up the pinks and greens of just blooming almond groves in the Golan Heights.
I smooshed through crowds down narrow stairs to see Jesus’ birthplace.
I stood on the stone road where Roman soldiers flogged Jesus Christ.
I saw the fiery orange sun dip between the pyramids.
I exchanged smiles and hugs with Egyptian children eager to practice their English.
I wandered through fields of red poppies at Beit Lehi.
I sat in the scalding sun at Masada.
I smiled at the rough-handed wood carver in his Bethlehem olive wood store.
I touched the ancient, war-pocked walls at Old Jerusalem.