burn
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Marian presents Burn, a literary arts magazine that strives to showcase the original artwork, photography and creative writing of our student body. Burn is published twice a year, once per semester, and we accept submissions from all grade levels. Our submissions are judged anonymously, and those that are selected are subject to minor grammatical corrections. 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 published by Graphic Technologies, Inc. For the 20172018 school year, there will be 800 copies printed per semester. All titles of pieces and page numbers are set in FFF Tusj font. The writing is set in GeoSans Light. The softwares used were Adobe InDesign CS6 and Adobe Photoshop CS6. Our advisers were art teacher, Mrs. Lindsay Cisco and journalism teacher, Mrs. Marsha Kalkowski. For inquiries, contact us at Marian 7400 Military Ave. Omaha, NE 68134 or burn@omahamarian.org.
Our staff: sarah burnett ’20, chloe herbert ’20, shruthi kumar ’20, scarlett wedergren ’20, ava bettger ’19, lily blake ’19, kate brashear ’19, caroline drew ’19, hali hansen ’19, cori johnson ’19, audrey laney ’19, kaitlyn rosenbaum ’19, macy salerno’19, ashley straub ’19, emma williams ’19, kathryn burbach ’18, samantha fabian ’18, maggie prosser ’18, makayla sedlacek ’18, editor kennedy gochenour ’18, editor julia hingorani ’18
16 & 17: Lights of Hope by Gracie Kerr, Smudge by Corah Johnson, Desert Light by Abby Butler, Coffee Girl by Ashley Straub, 18 & 19: I Used to Ask Questions by Daisy Owen, Splash by Hannah Shaffer, 20 & 21: Goodnight by Megan Doehner, For When You Grow Up by Emma Williams, Feathered Freddy by Scarlett Wedergren, Clothes that Speak by Tyra Carstens, 22 & 23: The Door by Frannie Cihunka, Old Wood by Clara Glock, House on a Hill by Andie Mikuls, 24 & 25: Letting Go by Anna Ambrose, Home Away from Home by Rilee Silvain, Back cover: Junkie by Qywnn Watts
Front cover: Hair-etige by Emmanuela Ahainti, Table of Contents: Cactus Skull by Payton Lofdahl, 2 & 3: Oh My God by Frieda Nomenyo, Love Kills by Payton Lofdahl, Self Aware by Megan Doehner, 4 & 5: Night Light by Isabella Pantano, Costa Maya by Abby Hayes, The Stops by Payton Kirchhoefer, 6 & 7: To the Times by Naomi Delkamiller, Missing that Someone by Becca Townley, 8 & 9: Beauty Defined by Katelin Kearney, Woman Alike by Mary Claire Daubendiek, Ascension by Caroline Drew, 10 & 11: Personified Charm by Audrey Otwell, Cascade by Ella Meis, Timothée by Emma Gunn, 12 & 13: Gaelic Remains by Sarah Burnett, 14 & 15: To the Mountains by Naomi Delkamiller, There’s Something by Audrey Otwell
“cactus skull” [ art by payton lofdahl ]
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self aware [ writing by megan doehner ]
And the thing that disgusts me the most Is what we are capable of I am a human being And I can cause hurt I am a living, breathing weapon Aimed at everyone I meet Every encounter a duel Never knowing who is going to pull the trigger first
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“oh my god� [ photo by frieda nomenyo ]
“love kills” [ art by payton lofdahl ]
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“night light” [ photo by isabella pantano ]
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the stops
[ writing by payton kirchhoefer ] She takes one breath in and a step forward but stops She looks back at the life she is leaving but stops She knows it is time to move on but stops
“costa maya� [ photo by abby hayes ]
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“missing that someone” [ photo by becca townley ]
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to the times [ writing by naomi delkamiller ]
Here’s to our childhood while we spun in the sun. To our imagination setting sail and innovation without fail. Here’s to underlying passions we will set free and a new generation who will make their decree. Here’s to enterprise that will shape our lives. To the long life we will acquire and rich experience left to retire. To the wisdom we will win and a new chapter that has yet to begin. To the music makers, The heartbreakers, To the teachers, The preachers, To the writers, And the fighters. Here’s to the day we will meet death as a friend and eternity will finally ascend.
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beauty defined [ writing by katelin kearney ]
Our world is ironic. Society defines beauty in the absolute ugliest way.
Beauty does not come from the longest hair Most colorful nails Smallest clothing size Or the wrinkle-free smile.
People pay thousands To change their raw, natural beauty. For the longest eyelashes And the most flawless face.
All of these restrictions Are supposed to define “gorgeous”. Yet the prettiest people Are the ones with the most loving hearts.
Legs must be pencil thin With arms skinnier than an old, scrawny twig.
Beauty lies on the inside. And so remember that You are beautiful. Society is ugly. These limitations do not define perfect. What is beauty? Look into the heart.
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[ art by mary claire daubendiek ]
“woman alike”
But just like sticks, Society makes us insecure So that we might break At another’s insult.
“ascension” [ photo by caroline drew ]
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` “timothee” [ art by emma gunn ]
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“cascade� [ photo by ella meis ]
personified charm [ writing by audrey otwell ]
He looked like he talked in cursive and spoke in braille He sang in code and his wonder left a trail of awestruckness behind him Those who followed were the bravest But those who tried to stop him in his path were what led to his beautiful destructive Maddening finale. A primped and primed poser, a delicate garnish. A sad socialite, and a lustful corpse.
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“gaelic remains” [ photo by sarah burnett ]
“gaelic remains” [ photo by someone ]
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“to the mountains� [ photo by naomi delkamiller ]
there’s something [ writing by audrey otwell ]
There’s something so irrevocable about young people. Maybe it’s the innocence of their youth, their pathway into discovery or the fact that it is a time when you can take a breath of polluted air, knowing that you are alive, living in a world where everything is insane to the point where we are violently connected through forces that we deny. Youthful, we are pivoted to see new people, statues and memorabilia that are amazing, gorgeous and being destroyed. We are left to wander the streets in a state of ecstasy thinking about how we are the only ones who are roped together by the now. The breathing, bleeding, dying moment that can never be felt so passionately the same way again. We are the cameras for the world, with the realization that ourselves will soon become the statues that will admire and envy the youth that were once us, in the glory days of the fashion, religion and words that fill our minds like smoke as we fade...
“desert light” [ photo by abby butler ]
“coffee girl” [ art by ashley straub ]
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smudge
[ writing by corah johnson ] One time, you made me feel like a beautiful piece of poetry, You wrote lines of love across my heart in ink, But now. You’ve turned my heart into a ruined canvas and I am the smudge across it, Because you have tried to erase me. Wait, Ink is not erasable and you aren’t either. I wasn’t ever enough and I only imprinted on you in lead, And like a once beautiful sketch, I wasn’t even a smudge. I was gone.
lights of hope
[ writing by gracie kerr ]
As darkness surrounds me on all sides, The shining lights will be my eyes. I reach for just a drop of hope, Before my dreams collapse in smoke. A path appears with an amber glow I am not lost, I will always know That whenever my days are filled with grief, The hopeful lights will give me relief.
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i used to ask questions [ writing by daisy owen ]
I used to ask questions and raise my hand high, I’d try out for the plays though I rarely got any lines. I played three sports one each season each year, I’d go to all the football games and I’d shout and I’d cheer. I ran for student council though I was never voted for, I auditioned for the talent show like I did all the years before. I helped with service projects and volunteer hours, I was that strong confident girl who had all the willpower. I sat in the front and got all the answers right, I was pure with good intentions and only my lies white. I was one to forgive and share all that I owned, just to be accepted and liked and well-known. I liked to participate and chatter away, I had all the ideas I’d like to say. Being tall I never saw eye-to-eye, so when problems arose I pushed them aside. I’d dress to impress and play to win, I guess I didn’t realize that’s where everything would begin.
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I used to ask questions and raise my hand high, now I sit in the back and don’t bother to try. Nobody noticed or batted an eye, ‘cause I pushed them away as a kind of battle cry. Everything I’ve ever cared about seemed so unimportant now, I don’t know why but it’s my fault somehow. I flew way under the radar and slipped people’s minds, almost as if the whole world had gone blind. I used to ask questions and raise my hand high, but then I fell off the deep end and never said goodbye. To that person that left and I’ll never know why, I wish you the best as I hope you do I.
“splash”
[ photo by hannah shaffer ]
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“feathered freddy” [ art by scarlett wedergren ]
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[ writing by m megan doehner ] No atter how far you run
Your mind
goodnight
ou
[ writing by megan doehner ]
alw ay s fi nd sy
“clothes that speak�
[ writing by emma williams ]
for when you grow up
[ art by tyra carstens ]
the first time I held you in my arms, I loved you and whispered never grow up the first time I heard your cry, I promised to protect you the first time I heard your laugh, I promised to joke with you the first time you held my pinky with your entire hand, I promised to be gentle with you and whispered never grow up the first time you tried to sit up, I promised to support you the first time you said an actual word, I promised to always listen to you the first time you got in trouble, I promised to defend you and whispered never grow up the first time you took steps, I promised to always walk by your side the first time you colored on the wall, I promised to imagine with you the first time you said my name, I promised to inspire you and whispered never grow up I remember the first time I held you, and knew that I would always love you
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Behind this door is opportunity Broken dreams are pieced together Happiness is in air you breath The wind sweeps you into your next adventure Mountains of suffering are moved off your shoulders Acceptance is the standard Kindness is the beauty This door is locked But you have the key
[ writing by frannie cihunka ]
the door
[ photo by clara glock ]
“old wood�
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[ photo by andie mikuls ]
“house on a hill�
“home away from home” [ photo by rilee silvain ]
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letting go [ writing by anna ambrose ]
Today, air got caught in my lungs, and I held tears in my throat, because I knew you had to go. Reluctantly, I opened my hands, and let you go. Then, my hands, and heart (and everything) felt empty.
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Spring 2018