Marian Burn Literary Arts Magazine - Spring 2022

burn

[v.12] [i.2]

table of contents front and back lump in my throat by ceci urbanski ‘23, someone lives on, like words scattered about by tong yual ‘24 table of contents horizon by marin momsen ‘24, ephemeral by grace comstock ‘24, before the apple by lillie devine ‘22, “sailing home” by sofia torres-salvador ‘24 2-3 take responsibility by lilly mcandrews ‘24, lion by elena burt ‘25, “you’re not alone” by lilly mcandrews ‘24 4-5 all access by melina piperis ‘22, moonlight by maggie morris ‘23, “icarus’s descent” by maddie smith ‘24, “the forever lullaby” by bailey kollasch ‘22, “midnight” by olivia traxler ‘22 6-7 woman in red by christina tinley ‘22, path to nowhere by elizabeth monzu ‘22, “i’m scared to love like you do” by anonymous, “a girl like you” by coventry thompson ‘25 8-9 tug-of-war by kenadie rudloff ‘24, twin sisters of huashan mountain by abigail mcguire 25, “dali” by eliza turco ‘22, “glass illusions” by bailey kollasch ‘22 10-11 full bowl by reagan graeve ‘24, selcouth by mia nelson ‘22, “my love” by chizzy okolo ‘24, “once, twice, sold” by kate hoppe ‘23 12-13 retrovailles by mia nelson ‘22

burn staff

14-15 slipping through my fingers by ceci urbanski ‘23, early morning by grace comstock ‘24, state of being by eva kriener ‘24, “when will it end” by lauren ali 22, “more time” by grace woodard ‘22 16-17 spring sunshine by madeline tubrick ‘23, namu amitabul by yena kelly ‘25, “the first her” by olivia traxler ‘22 18-19 bright eyes by lauren cannella ‘22, remarkable by scarlett wharton ‘24, “he doesn’t call me pretty anymore” by elissa eisele ‘23, “selfish in my sorrow” by elizabeth foreman ‘23 20-21leisure sunset fishing by elizabeth monzu ‘22, healthcliff are you there by eliza turco ‘22, “unwritten” by mia ramirez ‘24, “my dearest friend, the woodchuck” by kate hoppe ‘23 22-23 letting go of dying love by reagan graeve ‘24, the in between by adelaide witte 22, mausoleum by marin momsen ‘24, “history will judge us” by elizabeth foreman ‘23, “mother nature” by sofia torres-salvador ‘24 24-25 2022 by laura torres-salvador 24, home stretch by lillie devine ‘22, open book by ava hastings ‘24, “09/08/20” by maggie mcgill ‘24, “maybe you don’t think like me” by elizabeth buescher ‘25

Editors: Maddie Adam, Christina Tinley, Junior Editiors: Maggie Morris, Ceci Urbanski Staff: Lily Biggs, Natalie Bullock, Lizzie Evans, Ellie Fogarty, Elizabeth Foreman, Kate Hoppe, Eva Kriener, Riya Kumar, Lilly McAndrews, Chizzy Okolo, Sophie Ortmeier, Mia Ramirez, Kenadie Rudloff, Maddie Smith, Brynn Ullerich, Bella Beck, Cali D’Agosto, Hai’den Davis, Elleiana Green, Maria McLeay, Melina Piperis, Anna Rasgorshek, Adelaide Witte

editorial policy

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 twice a year, 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 Regal Publishing Company in Omaha, Neb. For the 2021-2022 school year, there will be 800 copies printed per semester. All titles of pieces and page numbers are set in Kathen font. The writing is set in Avenir Light. The softwares used were part of the Adobe Creative Cloud suite. Our adviser is journalism advsier Mrs. Marsha Kalkowski. For inquiries, contact us at burn@omahamarian.org or write to us: 7400 Military Ave, Omaha, NE 68134.

horizon

[ photo by marin momsen ]

“sailing home” [ writing by sofia torres-salvador ] let’s sail on down to the eastern shores as we paint the night sky blue from reds to yellows and the morning dew this is my one and only wish. as the cloak of night reveals the dawn let us sail to the ends of the earth from lost to found to home again just hope this way we’ll remain. as we mistake the horizon for the end of time let the clock hands never stop.

I think I learned what love this is, love that sets flame to the sea.

I can finally stop searching for you the wind will carry this little boat no longer I have found my home in you I suppose my better place, my “land ho,” just me and you.

before the apple [ photo by lillie devine ]

ephemeral

[ art by grace comstock ]

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“you’re not alone” [ writing by lilly mcandrews ] You’re not alone sitting on your bathroom floor wiping away your own tears rethinking all that is You’re not alone seeing what you should be scrolling through unattainable forms picturing what can’t be You’re not alone screaming just to be heard crying to get a point across wondering why can’t they see what is You’re not alone studying all night stressing over high standards learning to be what is You’re not alone running until you can’t feel your legs staring at yourself in the mirror hating what is You’re not alone because we have all been there sitting on our bathroom floors wiping away our own tears rethinking all that is

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take responsibility [ art by lilly mcandrews ]

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lion

[ art by elena burt ]

[ writing by maddie smith ]

“icarus’s descent”

i remember reading once about a boy with candle wax wings flying into the sun closer and closer until his fingers burned with the anticipation emanated from the star and his shoulders burned with the weight of the world and his skin burned from the wax melting away drip drip d r i p ping downards from his flight descending him back down to normality down to mortality. i remember this boy and his too golden dreams and i think to myself-was it icarus’s fault for reaching so far, letting his ego grow despite himself? or for allowing himself to fall, knowing the wind would not catch him?

moonlight [ photo by maggie morris ]

04

“the forever lullaby” [ writing by bailey kollasch ]

The tide rises and a hush falls Over humanity’s conquest.

Song flows from silence, Woven with the night’s radiance And sleepers’ visions.

All hear the sound Of tunes left unknown.

Forgotten with age And deafened by wisdom, The song sleeps too.

One who hurts, defies it.

One who wanders, ignores it.

One who fears, loses faith in it.

One who suffers, denies it.

Beauty continues its slumber.

all access

O song of moon and sand, Let not your light dim or Grains slip my longing embrace.

Though humanity may sleep, All will dance to your melody.

[ writing by olivia traxler ]

“midnight”

[ photo by melina piperis ] midnight is for the lovers the ones who hold pillows like the curves of a mistress who does not exist midnight is for the dreamers the ones only free from the clutches of life at night and now walk freely through their deepest desires midnight is for the artists the poets whose heads do not rest and the artists whose paint stained hands go unwashed midnight is for the people the ones who year and love and laugh midnight is for the ones who live

05

woman in red

[ art by christina tinley ]

“i’m scared to love like you do” [ writing by anonymous ]

There’s certain things that can be masked by two pillars and four white walls.

I enter my home and my mood drastically falls.

Because for some people a home is not a home instead it is a cell, Where when you share your emotions the only response from your father is a yell.

There’s certain emotions that people can hide, I know a man who has so many emotions to be shared but is too filled with pride.

Because for some people relationships with their kids are hard, they never learned how to love and can only do it through a birthday card.

There’s certain feelings that don’t just go away, I’m terrified that the cycle will repeat and I’ll be like him one day.

Because I don’t want my kids to not feel loved like I did.

I want them to be able to stay a little kid.

06

“a girl like you”

[ writing by coventry thompson ] One look is all it takes for people to rush to get to know you You are a perfect mix of bold, smart, kind, and creative I try to figure out how you do it but I never have a clue I could never hate you, you are not mean, selfish, or manipulative I want to get close to you, and spend all my time with you, but I can’t help wanting to be a girl like you You are exactly what I want to be: kind, intelligent, and inspirational Although I love the way you move me to get back up, I’m tired of being the one that needs reassuring I know you can’t help being empathetic, tough, and sensational I know the constant need to be a girl like you is deprecating Sometimes I feel like the only one going through this, but I know that the need to be a girl like you isn’t anything unconventional How would you describe me?

Is it as flattering as the way I describe you?

When I find out will it finally set me free?

You have no idea I feel this way, what would you do if you knew?

Would a girl like you still be what I long to be?

My insecurity tells me that you’re perfect, but I know you have flaws Things that you can plainly see, but I choose to ignore I don’t know why I can’t see that you’re human too, I don’t know the cause I don’t know why my insecurity chose you to envy, but I know that it has happened before When my brain starts to envy you it defies all of its logical laws But sometimes I wonder if it’s possible someway, somehow...

Do you wish you were a girl like me?

Do you see me as perfect and flawless?

Maybe not, but deep down there has to be someone you long to be Does your brain become just as jealous and lawless?

Maybe if I listen hard enough I can hear your heart’s quiet plea I know I still wish to be a girl like you But I will never know whether or not you or someone out there wishes to be a girl like me

path to nowhere [ photo by elizabeth monzu ]

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twin sisters of huashan mountain

[ art by abby mcguire ]

“glass illusions” [ writing by bailey kollasch ]

When cynical minds envision relationships They think of glass palaces Built on time and trust.

Inside the crystalline structure, The inhabitants are proud and happy.

They are ignorant.

Instantaneously, the cynical minds, which so easily sculpted, shatter their creations.

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The remains glitter beautifully even as they fall, but should a curious finger wander too close to the glinting shards, consequence renews.

Dreams of glass palaces birthed my own.

And as glimmering lights shower me, I join my shadow-minded peers.

“dali”

[ writing by eliza turco ] nobody sees that my time bleeds into itself august feels like years away and last december taps me on the shoulder, though i stand on the doormat of march mentally i shift freely between my ideas of me, the jilted past, the current oddity, and who i want to be

in so many ways, i’m unbound by the smell of spring in the air, by winter sun drenching my sunscreen lacking cheek i coast in a perpetual dream without day or night april blossoms nor autumn leaves existence just bends, refracts, and melts down gently

tug-of-war [ art by kenadie rudloff ]

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h t u elco

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full bowl [ art by reagan graeve ]

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We sell our bushes and trees And the air that we breathe For another useless building And a vacant parking lot We sell nature for cages And minimum wages Filling the pages Of the book of human mistakes We sell birds for their feathers Get skyscrapers for weather Then find new endeavors And break something else We sell plants for car washes And fields for garages And make metal, colossus Monsters with small cubicles We sell next our time To make pennies and dimes To continue our crimes And the book of human mistakes We sell the sky and the stars Both desert and marsh For pavement and cars And another gas station We sell animals for trash We sell forests for ash And buy pollution and cash And another chapter In the book of human mistakes

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“once, twice, sold” [ writing by kate hoppe ]

“m

” e v o l y [

zzy okolo ] g by chi it i n r w

I’m no Shakespeare I don’t write poetic plays That make you fall in love upon reading it My words slur together and don’t sound right I’m not Michelangelo I don’t create beautiful paintings That let you see right into my heart So you can see all the things I feel for you I’m no Leonardo DiCaprio When you look into my eyes You don’t immediately fall in love And you don’t imagine me and you getting married when you see me smile But I’m in love With you And even though I’m not a poet or an artist or a heartthrob I love you And I think that that’s enough for you and me Because when I look at you I fall in love then and there And I can see Me and you in a movie together Getting married and dancing in the moonlight And when you smile I fall in love all over again And that’s enough

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retrovailles [ art by mia nelson ]

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slipping through my fingers [ art by ceci urbanski ]

early morning [ art by grace comstock ]

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“when will it end?” [ writing by lauren ali ] You were mine. I was yours.

We fell as the world crashed around us.

You gave me your heart. Your love.

As did I What happened?

We fell out of love.

Your slight grazes of your finger against mine.

The gestures of sending hearts across the room.

Your heart, Your love.

It was no longer mine.

It pained me. You made me cry.

“It’s okay” I will still love you even if you no longer love me So when asked, “When will it end?”

My answer will always be never.

“more time” [ writing by grace woodard ]

You were my home.

I didn’t realize it ‘til you were gone.

I felt safe when I was with you.

Laughing so hard my stomach ached, Stuffed so full my belly might burst, Smiling so much my cheeks hurt.

I’ve never felt so loved, Never felt so understood, Never felt so heard.

I wish I could have just one more hug, just one more talk, just one more card, just one more week, just one more day, just one more minute To say goodbye.

state of being [ art by eva kreiner ]

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namu amitabul [ art by yena kelly ]

“the first her” [ writing by olivia traxler ] you were the first her you were the first her that i wanted to hold the first her that i wanted to braid my hair the first her i wanted to make a cliche beaded bracelet for you were the first her to hold me while i sobbed for our friend the only her for me to confess my midnight secrets to giggling until the sun came up again and yet it’s strange you’ll never know you were the first her or that you even were a her you’ll only ever know that you were a friend and i think that might be okay

spring sunshine [ art by madeline tubrick ]

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bright eyes [ art by lauren cannella ]

“he doesn’t call me pretty anymore”

[ writing by elissa eisele ]

18

He doesn’t call me pretty anymore He doesn’t compliment my eyes And I know that love isn’t about that But it would feel nice to see his face light up like it used to after I get all ready To know that it’s all in my head and that the love he feels is still going steady I would smile when he marveled at the brown specks in my eyes Because for some reason i never looked at them with that much appreciation so I just figured it was a lie And i know that over time love fades It’s not as shiny and new anymore it becomes more dull in its own way But i can’t help missing the butterflies i used to get When i used to do my makeup and he couldn’t help but let a compliment slip Because sometimes it’s hard feeling beautiful without a reminder Sometimes you just want the person you love to be a little kinder And i know that I’m being over dramatic The love hasn’t been lost and i need to get out of my head But now whenever i do my makeup all i feel is dread Because what used to bring me joy now brings me unimaginable fear Of the love I could lose; the one I hold dear

“selfish in my sorrow” [ writing by elizabeth foreman ]

I look at your empty chair at the kitchen table More than I ever looked at your beautiful face I hear the thin quiet at home More than I ever listened to your melodic voice I taste the blandness of my boring sandwich More than I ever enjoyed your generously shared desserts I feel the air brush against my palm as I walk down the halls More than I ever felt your soft hand in mine I notice your absence More than I ever truly noticed your presence

remarkable [ art by scarlett wharton ]

19

Pictures tell a story Our lips cannot phrase Even when the page rips The moment doesn’t change When we grow old And question what remained The faded photo Shows the memories that stayed

heathcliff, are you there?

Remember our friend the woodchuck, How in nature we believed, Well, they tore down the trees nearby, And my disdain this has received, I do not condemn the people, But our habits have my scorn, Why must we destroy the ardent trees, So another carwash our streets adorn, Yes, indeed they built a carwash, Another building I’m afraid, May have destroyed the wooduck’s habitat, While in hibernation sleep did lay,

[ writing by kate hoppe ]

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“ my dearest friend, the woodchuck”

[ photo by eliza turco ]

My dearest friend, the woodchuck, I hope that you are well, The shock you shall receive when wake from sleep, No human mind can tell, When I discovered they had done this, Such injustice I did feel, But the woodchuck, our hope and happiness, Still proves nature is real.

Shows the memories that stayed

leisure sunset fishing [ photo by elizabeth monzu ]

“ unwritten” [ writing by mia ramirez ]

Pictures tell a story Our lips cannot phrase Even when the page rips The moment doesn’t change When we grow old And question what remained The faded photoS Shows the memories that stayed

21

“history will judge us” [ writing by elizabeth foreman ]

In architecture, the buildings Designed today are all called Contemporary Because it is not for us To name the movements of our time Our children and theirs Will determine what we were— If we were successful, If we accomplished our goals, If we will be remembered as heroes, Or as the villains who ruined everything We will be viewed through a critical lens And held to standards too high to be seen, But this is not a prophecy of despair If we cannot reach the bar, We shall jump as high as we can In the hopes that our efforts and intentions Will be what defines us, not our failures

22

the in between [ photo by adelaide witte ]

“mother nature” [ writing by sofia torres-salvador ]

you gave us morning songs from birds full of life melodies of joyous sentiment in all the seven seas and the breeze of dawn that smells of earth and linen. now I understand. we are grey clouds to your colored smile the melodies you once sung have turned to sorrow blues.

letting go of dying love [ art by reagan graeve]

you gave us your brightest days of spring colored skies symphonies of swirling emerald blades of the hills and the reflections of a warm sun’s good night. now I understand. we are thorns to the rose bush you have made, the red will soon be of you of the Mother we couldn’t save. you suffered at our hands and now I know you’ve given us all a Mother can. perhaps once you’re gone we’ll listen and cry to the silence of what cannot be undone.

mausoleum [ photo by marin momsen ]

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[ art by ava hastings ]

open book

“09/08/20” [ writing by maggie mcgill ]

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Absence is a funny concept, it’s as if it requires something else to be lacking to exist.

For instance, darkness is the absence of light, and silence is the absence of sound.

Sadness is the absence of happiness, and true love is the absence of shame.

It’s been a year now since I’ve seen you, and I know I never can again.

I’ve grown up since then, seen and felt new things.

But even after all this time, all I feel is the absence of you.

2022 2

[ photo by laura torres-salvador ]

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“maybe you don’t think like that” [ writing by elizabeth buescher]

home stretch

[ photo by lillie devinel ]

Sometimes I don’t appreciate myself enough.

More than sometimes.

There’s so many things I beat myself up for But there’s so much to like about me.

I have so many talents, don’t I? Yet all I focus on is the bad things.

I could have rocked that audition, Aced that exam, Taken that chance, Said what I really thought, Done that better.

All I see is the one bad grade The one wrong note in the song The one stain on the canvas The one chip on the clay.

Maybe I’m in the hard math class but I still get easy arithmetic wrong.

I know how to play a complex piano piece but I can’t play something simple.

Maybe I can memorize a cool poem but I recite it incorrectly under slight pressure.

Maybe I can come up with an awesome story but I never write it down.

Oh, but there’s so much to like about me, That’s what everyone says.

Maybe there is.

I know there is.

I don’t look hard enough for it.

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spring 2022