“Burning Vermillion”

We offer you a poem this week that was shared by a friend to his congregation in Nashville, Tennessee in his weekly emails.

It is a vivid and confronting poem, capturing the whole element of the ‘heavenly war’ that Michael is engaged in. But it is also a comforting, gentle and subtle poem. with elements of the dream, the child and the autumn leaves.

Such artistic engagement with the reality of a greater being is always sacramental in nature. It is a central reason artistic practice is an essential element at our seminary. The Creator longs to be revealed through our creating.

This poem by the iconographer and catholic priest, William Hart McNichols, acheives this powerfully. Through word and image, through rhythm and sound something is created through which a greater reality can shine through.

Michael the Archangel, Transfixing Dragon on a limestone relief panel (Musée du Louvre, RF 1427). Burgundy, 1125–1150. Photo: Wikimedia Commons, Louvre Museum [CC BY-SA 3.0].

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If it had not been

for the child in me

I would never have

fallen asleep with

Saint Michael in the room.

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I dreamt of lies

and revelation beasts

eating me alive.

I dreamt of Antichrist

who keeps me locked in towers

all regulation and stiff law.

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I woke to find one arm

raised high above my head

holding what,

I didn’t know…

Michael put his sword into

my hand and gently said:

“This is Truth to cut through

these lies, and the Blood

of the Lamb is the only armor

given to children of the Kingdom.”

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If it had not been

for the child in me

I would have seen that

blazing autumn tree only

as nature’s last fire;

I could have missed

his wings tipped around

the edges burning vermillion.

– Fr William Hart McNichols