The OSC
by Tian Hao Pei
M&MF
est. 03-10-24
est. 03-10-24
Three poems in tribute to the Ontario Science Centre, the permanent closure of which was announced by the Ontario government in June 2024.
Moriyama
at four, your body was burnt.
condemned to bedrest
and words that hurt. there,
beyond the window,
you saw the architect
in vice and vision.
at twelve, you faced internment.
you faced the sunset bullets.
you faced condemnation.
at the threshold of maturity,
your father, the pillar of peace,
gifted you a golden nail.
upon God's Temple of Eternity,
you marked your spot.
at thirty-three, you began
your first creation. concrete
poured in harmony with
exposed steel, an exploration
of our own skeletons and
our desire to be curious,
accepting, and free.
and at ninety-three,
you wrote in its defense.
you echoed promises of
an era long gone. then,
you found your spot
etched decades ago,
and took a hammer to
your golden nail.
now, with barely any unity,
how difficult can it be
to be curious, accepting,
and free?
18th of August, 2022
the science centre
stood tall that final visit,
the morning marked
tragically by your loss.
too early to comprehend,
i felt heavy under the
blindingly clear sky. the
previous day's clouds,
who did not dare block
your new path upwards,
i thanked them.
i stood silently in
this temple of nostalgia,
frozen in time through
skeletons on display and
stop-motion machines.
seldom i forget loss,
but i am arrogant
and naive and often
neglect what can be lost.
forever a child in his memory,
there was ignorance towards
change and entitlement
in my breathing.
may that spotless
blue day never leave me.
the day i stood in the middle
of a children's museum,
thinking about my friend,
thinking about breathing.
The Concrete Playground
the warmth of my mother's
hand, guiding me through
vast halls and dark tunnels.
i owe my arms to you.
the care of strangers who
witnessed me fall at the
age of seven, who stopped
the red river down my face.
i owe my head to you.
the planetarium show
that always ended our
journey through the stars
with the homeward glow
of the morning sky.
i owe my eyes to you.
the concrete playground
where i found curiosity,
acceptance, and freedom
within your toys and displays.
i owe my youth to you.
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