Jerusalem Poem by Gert Strydom

Your old city spreads up to a hill,
where you lie shattered,
with your temple brought to ruins
by the power of Roman legions
and still you are the place
where God at a time was crowned with thorns
by a multitude of sinful men,
that did not see Him as their own
and now you are divided
between Arab and Jew

and I await the descent
of the New Jerusalem,
a city build by the hand of God,
paved with streets of gold
and much more glorious,
that the one of old.