A Love Letter to Philadelphia by Mary Mance

A Love Letter to Philadelphia

The unhoused rise before dawn on the city’s cracked streets;
while children wait at the corner of 15th and Lehigh;
backpacks heavy with a zeal for learning and crayons to color a new world.
And I wonder…
How many Sadie Alexanders advanced advocacy and access;
how many Charles W. Hicks championed change for children;
how many Jill Scotts sang smooth soliloquies;
and stepped through cracked doorways each day, their footsteps echoing in faded streets?
In Philadelphia, every block endures stories of those who fought for more,
lifting someone else’s tomorrow.
There is something unbreakable here.
A mother in Logan raises her hand in prayer hoping for a break;
a stranger answers, without thought of the cost.
Philly breathes in the small things, a coat given in the winter,
a warm place to sit, a shared meal after dark.
And somewhere in Passyunk, a father teaches his son,
to lift others as he stands, knowing that strength alone
is only half the strength this city needs.
I’ve walked Broad Street, Cecil B. to Spring Garden.
To walk these streets is to know the rhythm of call and response, a slow pulse of kindness.
Each crack in the sidewalk is a forgotten smile,
every leaning stoop a memory of someone who stood here before me,
every empty lot is someone who rose above or fell – but always reached out to steady the next.
Injustice still lingers, a shadow cast over food deserts, cracked courts, and fragmented communities,
haunting the streets where flourishing dreams have turned into nightmares,
where families struggle to stay afloat below the poverty line,
and justice becomes fallacy: fading in the distance of neglected neighborhoods.
But when we hold each other’s hands, and say,
“Your fight is my fight, and your hope is my own,” we become more than the shortcomings.
Imagine a city where every corner holds a hand outstretched,
where every child at the bus stop feels the weight of love wrapped around them,
where doors open with a warm welcome, and cracks are mended with courage, compassion, and care.
Every single one of us has a piece of this place to share.
What happens to a city that forgets the power of shared hands?
Some say, “Pull yourself up by the bootstraps,” never considering if we had boots in the first place.
Our strength lies in community, in the collective effort of many hands building a better future together.
Because here in this city we are never alone –
We are Advocates for Justice, we are those who hunger for equality.
We are the bridge.
The same hands that break bread extend and lift together;
still giving, still mending, and still raising one another toward brighter tomorrows.
When the scales of justice become an unwavering hurricane, constantly shifting the balance,
we provide refuge in our education of the law, we make a lifeboat out of policy,
enacting care in every single action, not leaving people stranded where they are.
What is Philly, 250 years later? —
a shelter from the storm, a place built by small kindnesses,
by hands that reached back and said,
“Come, there’s room here for you too.”