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My Roman Ring
My Roman Ring
Res ipsa loquitur prima facie .
Multum in parvo
The thing itself speaks at first sight .
There are many good things in something small .
Lost to its original owner -
Spending more than a millennium hidden
Buried and forgotten , hidden in pottery
Deep in the earth .
Now it was left languishing , lonely still
In York’s antiquities shop .
The woman feels it call to her
Seeking a reunion with its kin .
She has felt an unexplainable tug
back to the land of her birth
Some 12000 kms away .
Now she stands still
enchanted and speechless.
No one notices
that the ring
It sings for her .
This lady whose name
means ‘Italian woman ‘
And whose father wore in profile
The stoic Roman nose .
The spirit of this place
Embodied deep within that ring .
Its energy it draws her in
Minerva etched delicately into its face
A ring fit for a poetess .
Without delay or suprise
She feels compelled to slip it on
Her finger and the ring united ,
As if the ring were created 1700 years ago
just to mould
and navigate the curves and contours of her very fingers .
Feeling like a lost appendage returned.
The price never really a consideration.
Alea iacta est
The die is cast
The ring sings softly
As the woman journeys with it back to its new home .
Chanting a lullaby to the ancients
That the seed
Of Julia’s descendants
Had scattered themselves further than
the great Empire had ever been able to .
The ring now adorning its rightful finger
Soft gold shone bright like the harvest sun
The old ring in modern times
A nod In honour of the
Gods and Goddesses of old .
It had been a long journey _
Through time and history
And layered energy of
York and Roman Britain
To the light and Aroha
Of Aotearoa - now home .
The ring it bathed in the ‘new’ energy .
And it felt lighter .
A treasured taonga
It began omitting
it’s own noticeable ihi .
When worn ,
a subliminal muse for the aspiring poet
And acting as a conduit
quietly sharing its te kaha pai with all .
Nau Mai Rā
Welcome Home .
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