Illiterate, a poem by Grace Y. Estevez at



written by: Grace Y. Estevez


A wise woman I knew,
never could read a book,
she cared for the chickens,
sang and danced as she cooked.

She could make sweet candy,
curdling milk with lime,
adding sugar too,
it tasted sublime.

Building her fine house,
of mortar and bricks,
she mopped it inside,
with a rag and stick.

Not watching a clock,
when predicting time,
instead looked outside,
noticing sunshine.

Quickly sniffing air,
smelled visits from rain,
Once or twice saved lives,
curing any pain.

Her eyes could not read,
but her mind could see,
all the kindest hearts,
and the greatest thieves.

Brilliant like no other,
grand ties made us friends,
bonds with no known start,
never see an end.

Grace Y. Estevez

Grace Y. Estevez

Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy has always had a passion for poetry. While students were paying attention to their teachers, Grace was staring outside the window and writing poetry to describe her emotions. A natural empath with an appreciation for the meaning behind everything, she enjoys imagining what it would be like to walk in the shoes of others. Grace lives in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina with her husband, children, and two dogs.
Grace Y. Estevez

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