In El Centro de Oro, mornings lift with the
smell of fresh bread
floating from corner panaderías.
Spanish woven between neighborhoods, calling
buenos días
from stoop to stoop.
Bachata drifts from car windows,
the music echoing down the block like a heartbeat through the barrio.
Kids race scooters over cracked sidewalks, and vendors line fruit in bright rows,
Mangos, guavas, plátanos glowing in the sun
You climb the scaffolding with callused palms,
lifting steel beams as though they are your future.
You are the construction worker
Boots caked in grit,
muscles steady against the wind
Raising new storefronts where our language
rolls freely off the tongue
Brick by stubborn brick
Your sweat glistens like gold in the morning,
and your backbone is forged
from quiet sacrifice.
You stir pots in narrow kitchens,
seasoning the air with memory
You are the cook at Tierra Colombiana
Chopping onions and cilantro
Hands dancing over plates of arroz con pollo
and bandeja paisa,
as if speaking a language of love.
You turn hunger into comfort
The warmth of arroz y frigoles drifts out into the cold,
inviting strangers to become neighbors,
neighbors to become familia.
You are walking determined, backpack hung, steady pace
Past mercados with bright awnings
and windows filled with Goya cans and tamarind candies.
Your shoes tap against the uneven pavement,
passing beautifully colored murals that look like mirrors
of heritage and hope.
You are the dreamer
Eyes bright with unwritten futures
Words dancing between English and Spanish
You imagine a tomorrow
that stretches beyond fear
beyond judgement
beyond borders
You dare to believe
You belong
But beneath these bright streets,
there are cold winds that slip under doors.
Forces trying to unthread the roots
you have sewn into the neighborhood
They tug at what you’ve built,
what you’ve nourished, what you’ve dreamed
Hoping to dim your light
But you remain
Together
Interwoven
Unshaken
And as they try to take the rich diversity and beautiful colors of our city,
We stand together
Strong
Tall
Prideful
Knowing that we deserve to be here as much as anyone else
Knowing the strength and beauty of
Mi gente latino,
Knowing the true gold of Philadelphia
Is the light the people carry
and refuse
to let
fade
