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.