BURN Marian High School Literary Arts Magazine by Marian Student Publications

Marian Literary Arts Magazine

[v.15] [i.1]

Cover: Framed Horizon by Hannah Nutsch ‘25

0-1: Table of Contents: Mountains of God by Lily Wells ‘26, Moo by Reese Eggers ‘26

2-3: “Experienced” by Brynn Jaros ‘27, Seaside by Sienna Maiers ‘26, Salute from the Spotlight by Piper Schroeder ‘26, Starscape by Andrea Nyamedi ‘27, “Explaining my Blackness” by MajieAhna Winfrey ‘26

4-5: “Ivy” by Katherine Dietz ‘26, Sorry, what did you say? by Greta Justice ‘25, Bugging Out by Greta Justice ‘25, Blooms of Cherished Time by Charlie Drake ‘28,

6-7: Shades of She by Sylvia Borgmann ‘25, “Girl Feelings” by Coventry Thompson ‘25, “Seen” by Jane Rohling ‘27, Picture of Messy Dresser by Abby McGuire ‘25

8-9: “The Traveler of Windy Wade” by Madeline Iske ‘26, Rainfall by Adrianna Flynn ‘28, “Is it me?” by Kaylin Petersen ‘27, Sofia Bostrom by Sofia Bostrom ‘26

10-11: “She’s Gone” by MajieAhna Winfrey ‘26, “Bones” by Ava Ellis ‘27, Deceasing Life by Angela Le ‘27, A Journey Together by Kylie Schonhoff ‘28, “Unbreakable” by Maggie Arbataitis ‘27

12-13: Goodbye, Math. Not sincerely, Sam by Elizabeth Buescher ‘25, “Burning Affection for Words Unspoken” by Layla Wilke-Conant ‘25, “Candle” by Moira Harr ‘27, See How it Shines by Sophie Sturek ‘26

14-15: At Peace by Lucy Mendenhall ‘26, “Icarus” by Elizabeth Wepfer ‘27, Tornado by Julia Ramadan ‘25, “Funeral of a Bumblebee” by Delaney Shea ‘27

16-17: Timeless by Ava Mueller ‘25, “Memories” by Joelle McKamy ‘27, Cannon Beach Sunset by Sanibel Miller ‘28

18-19: Fireside with Barbara Walters by Kaylin Petersen ‘27, “iI I Were Able to Travel to my Past” by Bailey Shea ‘25, “Irene” by Lilly Italia ‘27, Untitled #3 by Lilly Italia ‘27

20-21: Great Fruits by Claire Pogge ‘26, “Cover Me” by Delaney Shea ‘27, Golden Hour by Maddie Molczyk ‘27

22-23: “Words” by Attley Freeman ‘26, Pepper/Peaches by Simone Bonacci ‘26, “Silence” by Katherine Dietz ‘26, Jonathan’s Happiness by Sofia Bostrom ‘26

24-25: “The Challenge of Painting” by Catherine Buescher ‘27, Country Sunset by Catherine Buescher ‘27, Starry Eyes by Ruby Scanlan ‘26, “The Allure of the Clouds and the Stars” by Bailey Shea ‘25

26-27: Back in the Renaissance by Annie Stessman ‘25, It’s cold outside by Adele Tompsett ‘27, “Down Under” by Madeline Iske ‘26

28-29: Golden Girls by Delaney Schmitz ‘27, “Ribbon” by Elise Whitcomb ‘27, “That Feeling” by Elise Willson ‘27, I love fall by Simone Bonacci ‘26, Orange by Nora Britson ‘26

30-31: “The Little Things in Life” by Jane Rohling ‘27, Looking into the Past by Brynn Jaros ‘27, “Child Life” by Vandana Santhanam ‘27, Memories Lie in the Dust that Coats Us by Elizabeth Buescher ‘25

32-33: “The Cycle Goes On” by Kaylene Bialas ‘25, More? by Julia Ramadan ‘25, How You See Me by Kaylene Bialas ‘25, “Glassy Eyes” by Ava Ellis ‘27

Back Cover: Secret Garden by Anne Stessman ‘25

[photo by lily wells ‘26]

Marian presents Burn, a literary arts magazine that strives to showcase the original art, photography, and creative writing of our student body. Burn is published in print twice a year and online at https:// burnmagazineonline.wordpress.com. We accept submissions from all grade levels. Our submissions are judged anonymously, and those that are selected are subject to minor grammatical revisions. Burn is a forum for creative student expression. Our goal is to give students a place to publish their work and a place to have their peers appreciate their work. Burn is printed by Interstate Printing Company in Omaha. For the 2024-2025 school year, there will be 800 copies printed per semester. All titles of pieces and page numbers are set in Hiragino Sans W8 font. The writing is set in Avenir Light. The softwares used were part of the Adobe Creative Cloud suite. Our adviser is journalism adviser, Mrs. Marsha Kalkowski. For inquiries, call 402.571.2618 ext 1134, email us at burn@omahamarian.org or write to us: 7400 Military Ave, Omaha, NE 68134.

Our Mission

Founded by the Servants of Mary, the mission of Marian High School is to provide a Catholic college preparatory education for young women, to empower students to discover and develop their talents, and to inspire them to lead and serve as women of faith and compassion.

fall 2024 burn staff editor team: Elizabeth Buescher, Karis Simon, Yena Kelly staff: Kaylene Bialas, Sylvia Borgmann, Abby McGuire, Mary McKay, Hannah Nutsch, Coventry Thompson, Eliora Agbenohevi, Elsa Barrett, CeCe Behouneck, Hayden Blayney, Reese Eggers, Lucy Mendenhall, Claire Pogge, Ruby Scanlan, Sophie Sturek, Hannah Taylor, Catherine Buescher, McKinley Fritz, Lilly Italia, Delaney Jackson, Angela Le, Andrea Nyamedi, Jane Rohling, Kaylin Petersen, Vandana Santhanam, Vasudha Santhanam, Delaney Shea, Elizabeth Wepfer. moo

Visit our website at burnmagazineonline. wordpress.com to see honorable mentions, music submissions and more!

[photo by reese eggers ‘26]

burn

“experienced”

[poem by brynn jaros ‘27]

When leaves start to fall

Years after that night

I still carry this haul

With all my might

I can’t throw it away

No matter what I do

So all I do is lay

Wishing I just flew

No words come out

No one ever will understand

No way I could shout

My mouth is condemned

I feel like a burden

Because I can’t think for myself

I go ask other people then

In hopes to fix it like an elf

Now the guilt I feel

When I find I am wrong

The pain is a sting of an eel

And now I long

I long for the unknown time

When I thought I knew I long for the flick of a dime

When my time was anew

Back to my burrow

And back to my den

I am no longer the “hero”

I never was then

My faith in humanity

Gone once again

Back to insanity

As I fend

I fend for the love I will never have I fend for the love that I give I fend for the chance to laugh I fend for the right to live

They say I fake my feelings

All an act it is

Don’t they know human beings

Are just like this?

So as your second choice

I stand alone

Can’t do anything without a voice

Hurting down to the bone

I gave my all

While you gave none

Just as I fall

You say you’re done

So I’ll cry

As you are mad at me

As you don’t listen to my sigh

And you think about what you could be

I think it’s all I’ve done

As I’m the problem

I’ve lost one to none

And with those words, I become numb

The words you say

So harsh and cruel

I can’t keep myself at bay

Am I the fool?

The fool that gave you my heart

So you could see in the dark

My small work of art

Now damaged with a mark

The mark you set

Both good and bad

I have gained my regret

But I am not sad...

[digital photo by sienna maiers ‘26]

[mixed media by andrea nyamedi ‘27]

“explaining my blackness”

[poem

by majieahna

winfrey ‘26]

black is great but lets clarify what it is and what it ain’t black isn’t chains

black isn’t slavery black isn’t gangs black is fame black has no shame black is more than just “unique names” black glows, radiates from our crowns to our soles in our souls

black isn’t a crime black people, we just don’t have time but black, oooo black is so divine black is loud black is sticking out in a crowd my black is non-optional my black isn’t a state of mind black hurts sometimes and yet my black is still one of a kind

[drawing by piper schroeder ‘26]

“ivy”

[poem

by katherine dietz ‘26]

I often see a house covered in ivy devouring the brick and stone crawling over the walls mingling its roots with the foundation nature claiming its place walls crumble bricks break and the ivy still remains to crawl among the ruins

sorry,what did you say?

[mixed media by greta justice ‘25]

b u g g i n g o u t

[gouache by greta justice ‘25]

blooms of cherished time

[embroidery string and nail art by charlie drake ‘28]

shades of she

[digital collage by sylvia borgmann ’25]

“girl feelings”

[poem by coventry thompson ’25]

When I was young I did not want to have “girl feelings.”

I wanted to be a strong woman who did not let boys see her cry.

I wanted only anger and passion, nothing else.

I didn’t want to cry like a girl, scream like a girl, or be seen like one.

To be like that, was an embarrassment of the highest degree.

I pushed the boys when they pushed me.

I ran the fastest and furthest.

I refused to cry when I fell, opting for anger instead.

I wanted to be loud, opinionated, and strong, all things girls are not.

Now, I cry during sad movies.

My heart swells when I read romance. I reach out to those who are struggling.

I want to be kind, empathetic, and just, all things girls are.

Now I have the best of both worlds.

Now I know that having “girl feelings” is kinda cool I guess.

“seen”

[poem by jane

rohling ’27]

To the girl who sits in the far back corner, Who stands at the edges of the party, of the group; The girl who always is picked last, Who feels forgotten, Invisible- never heard, never seen I see you I’m here for you

To the girl who’s the life of the party, who’s always talking,

Spending every moment with friends, so she doesn’t feel alone;

Who looks like she has it all f figured out, But silently dying on the inside

I see you I believe you

To the girl who wishes she is something more.

To the girl who, when she looks in the mirror, Doesn’t see how beautiful she is

I see you I love you

picture of a messy dresser

To the girl who doesn’t know how she could ever be loved

To the girl who doesn’t believe she should be here in this world

I see you I want you

I see you

I want to help you I see all of you.

you may feel invisible, you may feel unloved, you may feel completely broken, but I see you.

I want to know every part of you because I know that life is hard and you feel like you are by yourself, like no one can see you struggle, but I do.

I see you.

“the traveler of windy wade”

[poem by madeline iske ‘26]

Eyes dart as the howling wind catches the cloak of a traveler most grim.

No smiles worn eyes and a mellow voice that inquires of a path least traveled.

Poor soul should he travel since that fitful day when wind met wade.

The bend of the road drops to a cavern

spirits fallen from the wretched cliff.

rainfall

[digital photo by adrianna flynn ‘28]

The iron belly roars a tomb below water lined with jagged edges beckoning the wayward shores.

Caution given but not taken broken two treks long bled into one slippery slope.

Wade yearns whistling a tune of distress but peril lies not from below but from twisted spirals of wind

“is

it me?”

[poem by kaylin petersen ‘27]

How would it be

How would it be if I concealed what I felt

Would it have been different if I was just quiet and dealt? What if I just put a smile on my face

What if I’d just given it a little more grace

Would it be the same,

Would I still feel the shame,

Would it still feel like I’m all to blame?

I know there’s absence whenever you’re near, but somehow when you’re not I always fear

I fear I’m not whole, I fear I’m not complete, I fear the void being blank

Though emptiness is what not to fear when your heart is being sank

When the cage of your fleeting attention traps me,

It feels as though I’ll never feel free

Your lack of care burns my skin

When you’re gone and even when you’re here I never win

What did I do to deserve this, haven’t I been good? can’t I get a bit of bliss?

It’s not fair to me, that after all I do and how hard I try you’re always the one that says goodbye It took me a while to see that it wasn’t me and it was you, and I know that’s true I don’t miss out on much but now you miss out on the person whose feelings you no longer get to touch

The chains are broken, my heart is free, and you don’t get to mess with me

“she’s

gone”

[poem by majieahna winfrey ‘26]

every day is spent projecting never processing no time to stop hold it own it or simply feel it just bury it deep until it is seemed to be gone but as it bubbles below the heat from the boil rises clouding my view skewing my who

“bones”

[poem by ava ellis ‘27]

I see it in her bones she truly is kind I see it in his eyes he has something in mind I see it in her bones she has someone to find I see it in his eyes he knew who he had in mind I saw their relationship will grow It’s only a matter of time

[mixed media by angela le ‘27]

a journey together

[acrylic painting by kylie schonhoff ‘28]

“unbreakable”

[poem by maggie arbataitis ‘27]

Day after day I helped you Day after day I loved you I gave you my care, my time, my worry the love, fear, and anger all get blurry I gave you so much you returned so little I cared for so long and you left me a riddle Your emotions are wild your mind so shakable you thanked me then hurt me yet my love remained unbreakable I was so stuck in a state of blindness you unintentionally took advantage of my kindness I thought I could help you, and maybe I did, but the job was never done, so I got sucked deeper in I continued to help, I continued to stay I cared always, but you depended on the day One more try, an endless effort I continued to save you, you continued to get hurt I showed up for you time and time again I finally needed you and you looked at me like a sin I forgive you, I release you, I still love you, but I don’t need you

goodbye, math. not sincerely, sam.

buescher ‘25]

[digital photo by elizabeth

“burning affection for words unspoken”

[poem by layla wilke-conant ’25]

Touching you is like flame to paper my finger grazing your arm is wood being lit. The longer I stay the more you burn away and the closer I get the greater it hurts. Yet your flame blazes warm. So warm. I ignore the sharp heat for the soft warmth. I see you fading away into ash my fingers cut the pavement as I try to collect what we were. Preserve it. Maybe you’re a phoenix maybe one day we will be something again from all the pain. In reality you are just paper. Paper is meant to be folded into an airplane thrown away into the wind. Don’t touch paper with flame. It will always burn.

“candle”

[poem by moira harr ’27]

Our world the candle

Time melting away like wax

Beautiful burning

[digital art by sophie sturek ’26] see how it shines

burn

at peace

“icarus”

[poem

by elizabeth wepfer ‘27]

To touch the heavens...

What that must have felt like...

To have your fingertips brush against the rays of the sun

Feel the wind through your hair as you fall

The hot wax down your back

Even the fall had to be beautiful

Has the shock faded yet from touching the clouds, Icarus?

Did you feel scared falling from the sky?

Or was it awe for having kissed the atmosphere?

Did you think of your father?

Did you think of his words?

“Do not fly too close to the sun, my boy,” he had said

But now?

It is not hot wax that runs, but a drowning sorrow down your father’s cheeks.

”My baby...” he says, cradling you one last time...

[digital photo by lucy mendenhall ‘26]

[mixed media by julia ramadan ‘25]

“funeral of a bumblebee”

In the first bloomings of my life, A bumblebee landed on my finger. It sat and stared, Harmless

Until it left its mark in me, Reddening my skin.

Tears dripped onto the flowers below.

My eyes were dry.

Her tears streaked down, Atop freckles,

Beside lips, Below her chin.

Sadness for the bee’s death, Contorting her features.

Fear of never being put to rest, A funeral for a bumblebee was thrown.

[poem by delaney shea ‘27]

She is no longer scared of bees, No longer saddened by their death, Born of their own fear.

Her tears no longer nourish the flowers,

As they rot away in the final bloom of us. She eats cherries on the hood of my car, Unafraid of their sickly sweetness. The only tears now are mine, As I mourn the bee on me, The one she’ll never mourn.

I will be the only attendant to this Funeral of a bumblebee.

[drawing by ava mueller ’25]

“memories”

[poem by joelle mckamy ‘27]

We went from making memories

To you and me being one We’d hoped this would go on for centuries. But I blink, and you are gone

You act like nothing has changed between us. But the words you said changed everything. And now you’re just a memory. And we never made it to a century.

How can you love someone? And learn to let them go. Was there something going on? And if there was, why didn’t you let me know?

We talked about taking things slow. To you breaking my heart And now we’re just two stars. Floating apart

Sometimes you act like we never broke up. And sometimes you act like we’ve never grown up. The more we talk, the closer we get. But do you even know how I get affected?

We talk and talk and take And the words you say just collect. But the words you say don’t mean anything to me. Because now you’re just a memory. And that’s all we’ll ever be.

cannon beach sunset

[digital photo by sanibel miller ‘28]

fireside with barbara walters

“if i were able to travel to my past”

[poem by bailey shea ’25]

If I were able to travel to my past

I wouldn’t want to at first

Not wanting to experience old pains anew

Having a first experience for the second time

If I were able to travel to my past

I would consider it sometimes - Then laugh

Because why would I entertain the idea

Of going from good times Back to the bad?

Yet - If I were able to travel to my past

I would think deeply for a moment

Think back to when I was that tiny child

One who couldn’t breathe or speak right

One who only truly had a friend named

Loneliness

If I were able to travel to my past

I would think - Mentally weep for that child

Realizing I could give them

Something I never got: A true friend

If I were able to travel to my past

I would go - Pack all the best things to give

To the sad little kid on the curb

Finally playing during recess with a smile

Instead of reading while filled with envy

And sadness - Grieving the loss of something

They never had

So - If I were able to travel to my past

I would in a heartbeat

I would want to give that child comfort and love

Explanations to all the questions

They knew they couldn’t ask Anyone else

I would enrich and make happy that tiny child

Giving them a past to look fondly back on

To replace the one

That still makes me weep - To this day

[acrylic paint by kaylin peterson’27]

Irene. Her hair, Glistening ringlets, They curl in the sun.

She smelled of oranges, She swayed like daisies. And for a moment then, You felt as though you could reach out, To feel the sweetness of her skin on yours.

untitled #3

[mixed media by lily italia ’27]

“irene”

[poem by lily italia ’27]

But the tide grew harsher, You were tossed adrift. She remained fixed, Unaffected by the sea’s ebbing.

So you tread through the blue. Alone, Never forsaken.

Knowing someday Irene will meet you at the shore.

burn

great fruits

[painting by claire pogge ‘26]

“cover

me”

[poem by delaney shea ‘27]

In the pale moonlight, Where wind is calm, Water sleeps, And cloying noise subsides, A tree’s leaf wilts and falls.

Mother Nature ignores her child, She ignores the once golden leaf Rotting on her lush floor.

More leaves fall, Outcast from the garden, Where life is to be savored.

More ignorance supervened, Deciding to paint the dead leaves green.

One day her tree is barren, Soul and bones exposed to the moon, Because she let the darkness of the night Declare her blind.

Instead of letting the moonlight shine upon Wilting roots of her once beloved tree, Instead of bandaging her child, She decided to cover the ugliness of what Weakness caused.

“words”

[poem by attley freeman ‘26]

What are words?

To some people words are concrete the real world symbol of ideas and feelings to them words are finite letters and syllables to them words never change always staying the same no matter how many times you read them but to me words are fluid changing every time I read them always telling me something new and exciting changing with each context to me words are soft they’re the feelings of others becoming my feelings they take me to places by surrounding me with that place instead of bringing others into my world they take me into their world to me words are never ending there’s always another one to learn another action to see another feeling to have another place to visit and everyday people make new ones ones to tell other people how they feel when no other can do it that’s what words are to me.

pepper/peaches

[acrylic paint by simone bonacci ‘26]

“silence”

[poem

If there was one thing I’d say you hated

It would be silence

Because the sound of nothing

Scrapes your ear

And you drown it out

With noise

Noise

Until it becomes so loud that the rest of us

Just prefer the silence

jonathan’s happiness

[oil pastel by sofia bostrom’26]

by katherine dietz ‘26]

country sunset

[digital photo by catherine buescher ‘27]

“the challenge of painting”

[poem by catherine buescher ‘27]

The paintbrush lightly skims the canvas as floods of color appear in its wake. The motion of many bristles makes a satisfying swishing sound that can be compared to nothing. Although putting paint to canvas is one of my favorite things to do, I constantly run myself in circles as I try to create the perfect painting. Every beautiful flower that appears on canvas will always have an imperfection. Every mountain colorfully made from white will never be majestic enough. No matter how hard I try, there’s always something wrong. I know imperfections seem like the villains, But what if they actually make the painting unique?

[poem

starry eyes

[digital art by ruby scanlan ‘26]

“the allure of the clouds

I stare into the sky and its magnificence

Jealous of the boy in the moon

Who gets to swim in its beauty

And float amongst the stars

I stare into the sky and its wonder

Loving the painting before me

Astonished by each paintbrush stroke

Mother Nature made

I stare into the sky and its enigmatic existence

Hoping to one day live with the clouds and constellations

Floating in the midst of meteor showers

Drinking the magic of the moon

I stare into the sky before looking down

As my head is too far up in the clouds

I’m distracted

People don’t quite like that

But I continue, too bewitched by its beauty to care

I look to the sky as I get out of my car

Each night after work

Like clockwork

And admire the stars and their invisible threads

That connect to tell amazing stories

Of deities and mortals, lovers and enemies, heroes and villains

Whenever I see the sky I question

How everyone is able to ignore it?

How are they able to ignore just how beautiful the infinity above them is?

I reach my hand up

I capture nothing

As close as it seems

The sky

Its radiance

Its beauty

Its perfection

Is not something I will ever get to touch

But I still try

I still want to map the stars, know the clouds

Dance in the rain

Because every production of the sky

Is a unique masterpiece

And every time I notice it

I look upon it quietly in awe

Wondering how I got so lucky

As to see nature’s beauty

put so plainly before me

I wonder and look

Knowing I’ll never get an answer

Knowing I’m happy with that question

Being forever unanswered

As long as I get to see the sky

Every day that I shall live

stars”

by bailey shea ‘25]

back in the renaissance

[digital photo by annie stessman ’25]

it’s cold outside

[digital photo by adele

tompsett ’27]

“down under”

(A silly ode to my younger and unconventional self)

Down under the bridge the monster lies waiting, waiting for its kill. A knight and his horse, a lovely two-course, comes clambering over the hill.

Down under the Bridge the monster crouches, crouches ready to spring. The knight catches sight of the monster despite and runs shrieking back home to his king. Down under the bridge the monster yells bitterly, bitterly up to the sky. The birds take off, the mammals blast off, at the terrible, wicked, outcry.

[poem by madeline iske ’26]

“ribbon” golden girls

Our friendship is like a ribbon. You can tie it up, make it look so perfect, With pink satin curves, shiny and new, The little pieces flowing in the breeze. But when one side is pulled, A little harder than the other, In an instant, It unravels.

Becoming nothing more Than a straight line Not wrong, yet not right Not the perfect bow it used to be. Instead two ends of the same piece Going in opposite directions. Our friendship was like a ribbon

[poem by elise whitcomb ‘27]

[digital photo by delaney schmitz ‘27]

Happiness is so strange

Because despite whatever is going on in your life

You will still experience it.

I know happiness from my dad

When he plays jazz on the piano. I feel his hands striking the keys, turning simple notes into complex chords. I can almost taste it in the air

As it makes its way throughout the house—

The same song, warm and content.

I know happiness from my mom

When she walks through the yard With a coffee in her hand.

The woods soak in sunlight as her frail hands cup the warm mug, and I see the look in her eyes—

The same one, warm and content.

I know happiness from my sister

When she forces me to watch her handstands.

I can picture her strong hands rooted in the carpet, her feet wavering in the air, And her disappointment when she topples forward. She asks me if she did good and I say yes, just to see her smile—

The same smile, warm and content.

You would never know what they went through. But they were struggling and I noticed.

They all felt happiness, too, and I noticed that even more. It was all the same—their eyes, their smile, that feeling. It was warm and content.

Happiness is a strange feeling, because despite whatever is going on in your life, You will still experience it.

And in some way, it will always be the same.

[digital photo by nora britson ‘26]

[acrylic paint by simone bonacci ‘26]

by elise willson ’28]

“the