peace (ii)
by Jonathan Chan
after Enya
blood thins at the brow,
language folded into the cleft
of an olive tree. it is not an unfamiliar
scene, an envisioning rehearsed
and reversed. blistered feet meet the
jagged path. the weight of wood is
felt on fallen knees. the brightness
of the sun fails as fingers graze
the chest. the scent of wood
remains in the life of a child.
the tree recalls the thirst of water.
a thin, perfect slice of light falls
upon a body wrapped in linen.
something in the molecules seems
to shift. the skin releases the sheen
of ointment and spice. a face sheds
its anguished lines. it is a familiar
scene, familiar with gouge and release.
the peace that eludes the heart in its
speech. Weil says grace rushes into an
empty space. eternity meets the wound
that time has rent. the murmur of music
plays to total exhaustion. a glimmer vanishes
into a garden at ease.
Jonathan Chan is a writer, editor, and translator of poems and essays. His first collection of poems, going home, (Landmark, 2022) was a finalist for the Singapore Literature Prize in 2024. His second collection of poems is bright sorrow (Landmark, 2025) He serves as managing editor of the poetry archive poetry.sg. Educated at Cambridge and Yale, he was born in New York to a Malaysian father and South Korean mother. He was raised in Singapore, where he currently lives. He has recently been moved by the work of Mah Chonggi, Efe Duyan, and Daryl Yam. More of his writing can be found at jonbcy.wordpress.com.
