From Gordon’s Bay Harbour Poem by Gert Strydom

From Gordon’s bay harbour
we took a boat
along the coast
of False Bay
and your fingers
knotted through mine
while we sailed
into the ocean.

The launch went up and down
the waves of a calm sea
although a light breeze
was blowing, throwing
drops of spray
into our faces.

Your cheeks were glowing
and your eyes
had the look of adventure
and anticipation
and we took several photographs
of the scenic mountains,
the beaches and shore.

We stopped sailing
at a island of rock
protruding from the waves
that was covered with seals,
which they called Cape sea lions.

The stench of seal dung
and rotting fish
hang heavy in the air
and the boat was rolling to and fro
as well as up and down
and you and some
of the other passengers
got really seasick
and very nauseous.

I took some more photos
trying to ignore the stench
and photographed seals,
waves braking over the rocks,
and everything
but the sea around us.

Those seals had their eyes open
unlike us
for predators like sharks
and shrieking as a saw
going through a board
while more got on those rocks
and sharks started to circle
that island and the boat

and we also felt
like something in the food chain
and were relieved
when the boat’s engine
started again
at the first try.