Our yesterdays become today’s poetry

What mis-guided steps we took in earlier days

Become the compass to guide or mis-guide us through life’s tempests in later years

Our flood of tears that overwhelmed us as babes

Water and keep fertile our heart’s soil in our golden years

Our early attempts at art:

Our stick figures we clumsily drew and our finger paintings

Become the force behind master strokes

On the masterpiece we paint of our whole life

The notes we failed to carry when we were tone deaf

Become the notes angelic beings carry to and fro

Up and down Jacob’s ladder

Aligning the celestial harmonies

Between our heavenly residence and our earthly abode

The multitude of our unanswered questions

We asked while at our parent’s knees

Become our song’s lyrics

The stuff of our novels , stories and poems

We are greater than the sum of earth’s square footage

We are greater than the power of all rulers, past and present combined

Our greatness emanates from the Divine!

Eva Santiago copyright 2016



Keep ’em Kids in Line

You there, in that prison cell

You amaze me

You’re free

Freer than a free man

They put you away

Sent you to the pen

For 7 years

Thinking they could annihilate


And Destroy you

But you won’t give in to your fears

Yeah I know you shed tears

I feel them in your letters

You shed many tears

But not for yourself

You’re beyond all of that

You did what you did

You’re paying with your time

You know what’s what

The tears you shed

Are all for your children

You committed the crime

You made your bed

Those tears you shed

You hope will keep ’em kids in line.


EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013






Fly the Friendly Skies

Have you ever looked up at the sky

There, way up high

Miraculously suspended

The Most amazing of inventions

Held together by nuts and bolts

Painted with pretty logos

Air buses

Taking us here

Taking us there

Taking us everywhere

Tiny windows all in a row

Heads the size of pins looking out

I see you up there

So jealous of you

Looking down at me sitting here

Stuck on the ground with nowhere to go

But you!

You get to fly!

You’ve got your wings

You are free!

I look up at you

Whoever you are

Right now you shine brighter than any ‘ole star

For you have what I desperately want:

Wings to fly

Where are you headed?

Who the hell cares!

At least you’re going somewhere

A funeral?

A wedding?

You just got divorced?

Starting a new life someplace new?

Perhaps you’re headed for college?

Or maybe a long deserved vacation?

Air travel

What a marvelous feat

When I fly

I lose myself in the clouds

Once I wandered into a great white forest

Stayed there for three hours

Another time I played hide and seek with a rainbow

I remember dancing with angels

Careful not to step on their wings

They don’t take too kindly to that

I have ridden on elephant’s backs

And followed the course of my wild imagination

I was six when I first flew

Nothing in life back then made sense

Until I stepped into a jet plane

And there was where I got a clue

That day so long ago

I remember thinking:

Angelic beings were my friends

For the first time in my short life

I felt like a real princess

They served me the food I liked

They gave me nice smiles

They gave me a pillow

Even held my hand when I got scared

I fell in love with the friendly skies

I told the creatures in the clouds:

“I will always come back

So long,

Fare thee well

I’ll return!”

And time after time

Though I wish to fly more often

To the friendly skies

I have kept my word!

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013


The Displaced

To be homeless is nothing more than to be displaced. They are no different from those of us who have a place of our own. They wake up the same as you and me. They need love and affection like you and me. What is to be displaced?

Is it a choice a person makes?

Is is a curse?

Is it random?

Does it choose you?

Do you choose it?

I’ve been close to being homeless at one time in my life. I was kicked out of somewhere to land on some one else’s door-step;only to find out Β I was not welcome there either. I Β literally had no place to call my own during that brief time. I was displaced because Β of my family‘s lack of concern for me. Who of you are bold enough to admit Β Β you’ve been home less at one time or another? It could have lasted an hour,a day, a week , a month or even a year. No matter the length of time,,or for whatever set of circumstances, you know what feeling homeless is like.

The United States of America is The Great Land of Pretenders. When I was displaced, I held a full-time job, I wore nice clothes, I ate everyday. I just lacked my roof. I went to work and wore the same happy face; no one knew of my plight. I pretended all was well with me and kept going because well, that is what one does in the land pf pretenders.

To be homeless mean so much more than to lack a roof over your head at night. In my view, to be displaced is to be without family. Family tossed me out;I ended up living with a bunch of strangers . I was cut off from my rightful place and role in my family. So I struck out on my own;left all those people behind because that’s when I knew I had to forge my path and find my family.

Displaced people wander about looking for acceptance and connection. I sure did. You can be a wealthy person and still merit the title of Β displaced soul only because you’ve no family, no ties . No true bonds to family whether it’s your blood or family made of close friends. You can own the whole world and all its treasure but if you have no true connection to another soul, you’re a displaced soul. I have met many in that plight who Β were so full of the pride of life and the total sum of their possessions. Yet they had no one who checks up on them at least once a day to see if they’re ok.

In the land of pretenders they teach children everything about the value of material things and nothing about the value of life. Generation after generation children are not shown to pursue love and to attain peace at all costs.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

Flavorless Salt

Too many people

Think they know too many things

Fact is they only know facts

In the end we know nothing at all

What happens when we fall?

We fall from:


Our place

A tree

We fall out of:

A window


An Airplane


Hot air balloons

We fall into:





We fall into:


When we think things aren’t fair

Then we feel sorry for ourselves

And some one should kick us in the rear

We fall into despair

When a shit we don’t give

And we think no one cares

Then we go molly grubbing

And we stay there a while

Think it’s ok

To not one single fuck give

And let’s never again smile

What we forget is:

To give is to live

Take what’s not yours

And die a little inside

Take and not give

You become full of holes

Like an old sieve

And now life sifts right through you

You’ll have to be thrown out

Like flavorless salt.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013


What if We Are the Same?

This is a tribute I wrote to my mother who passed when I was an infant. When I share it in public, I still tear up after all these years…


“Oh, she died so young!”


Who are we to tell?

Not one of us knows

Our day

Our time

Or even our very last hour

So isn’t that declaration a bit pompous?

What if it was her time?

I used to be sad

I used to lament

Oh si mi madre paso..

She was way, way too young!


What if perhaps she DID sing all of her songs

And didn’t leave any unsung?

What if she did complete her assignment by giving me life?

What if she made her exit

So I would have a grand entrance?

What if she walked off the stage

So I could be a strong voice for this age?

What if she did her last painting

So I could fulfill my purpose and destiny without fainting?

What if she held me close once

So I could hold others forever?

What if my cheek she one time caressed

So I could with my hands touch the oppressed and depressed?

What if she and I are one and the same?

She went before me

So I can forever her love proclaim….

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013-2014







Death is B-Rated

Death is barely tolerated

Death is seldom celebrated

People cheat death everyday

No one ever claims they cheated life

Death is berated

Much akin to those poorly scripted b-rated films

Death is diminished

When it comes unexpectedly

Because some one’s life ended unfinished

An unfinished life:

Now, that’s such a truly sad tragedy





Un dreamed

Un done

Under lived

Under established

For all these reasons

And for probably a hell of a lot more

Death is barely tolerated

Death is seldom celebrated.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013