On visiting St Michael’s Mount and encountering Lyn Constable Maxwell’s bronze of the Archangel in the island church

Michael stands, his hand below the hilt
of his sword, unready to strike. At his feet,
the foe cowers, unable yet to comprehend mercy.

Nor more do we: in the Hollywood version
our hero’s magnanimity is almost ever rewarded
with a kill, reluctant hand forced by the perfidy of the enemy.

Impassive on his peaceful plinth,
Michael stands unmoved by our writhing arguments
for vengeance dressed as justice.

Patient and untiring he
reaches out his empty hand as though
the love he offers were no burden at all.

I’ve been away for a couple of weeks, enjoying some vacation adventures. There was sun, sand, and saltwater; cliff walks, views of seals and parched heather. There were friends and family to visit, and there were a couple of encounters that stopped my soul for a moment. One such was meeting St Michael on his eponymous Mount in Cornwall.

His sculptor, Lyn Constable Maxwell, our guide told us, took inspiration from Jacob Epstein’s portrayal of the Archangel at Coventry, where the Cathedral Church of St Michael became an enduring symbol of the Christian call to forgiveness and reconciliation during and after WWII. The title of this poem draws on that history; after the bombing, the Provost had the words, “Father, forgive” inscribed upon the ruined wall behind the altar.

When I heard that backstory to this St Michael, I was unaccountably overcome with emotion. I think that Maxwell’s bronze invites it. In it, there is a personal invitation to accept mercy, to dare to repent and look upon the love of God, that is present in Michael’s calm gaze and outstretched hand, which reaches not only toward the devil at his feet but, in my experience, the person standing by. Then, there is the wretched situation of this world, still wracked by war and seemingly inured to any appeal for forbearance, forgiveness, compassion, let alone reconciliation. But here is hope, in the symbols of outstretched hands and unused weapons and the untiring, unflagging invitation to peace.