Elizabeth Elliott

Elizabeth Elliott is a Biology major and Women’s and Gender studies minor at PLU. Her writing was fueled by a fascination with storytelling and exploring her own experiences. She would like to thank her amazing group of friends who have supported her poems. She dedicates this poem to her mother.

Multiple sclerosis and what it means

It’s hard to say she’s getting worse
Her body swaying back and forth
Unable to stay tall and planted.
My life entangled and uprooted with hers.

Bracing the wind, bending backwards
She closes her downcast eyes, the inevitable
Collapse occurs. I want to uplift her,
But I can’t bear both our weights.

I turn towards the autumn trees
Who shed free yellow and orange leaves
Yet they continue to stand tall.
If only my legs would hold up my knees.
I’m only eighteen watching through it all.
My mother’s body is chopped down
By a disease. Pieces of her break off
while I offer my arms, they don’t brace her fall.
Down I fall to clutch the broken mossy ground
Uprooted her body lies with seeds failed to sprout
Plants never sown; moments that will never be
Consume all the strength in my knees.
Although I’ve fallen and been brought down
I’ve finally been planted into the ground.