Wildflower 2025

THE

Wild flower W i l d

f l o w e r

LITERARY & ARTS MAGAZINE

TEMPLE, TX

2025

Letter from the Editor High school is an experience unlike any other: a group of people who have nothing in common besides their age held in close proximity to each other for some of the most formative years of their lives. Because of this, there is an unbelievably diverse range of personalities. How we behave in high school is often deemed “just a phase” in our lives—something insignificant and fleeting.

However, I argue that this is the nature of humanity; we live in a constant state of growth, even beyond our teenage years. This is why our staff has chosen the theme “Phases” for this year’s edition of The Wildflower.

Phases is a reflection on the necessity of transformation. Like the tide, the moon, and the everchanging seasons, people move through cycles, constantly shifting and adapting to their environment. This theme invites artists and writers to embrace whatever phase they find themselves in now. Whether it is capturing a moment of profound realization, reflecting on past formative moments, or looking towards the future with hope, Phases honors change in all its forms. In this way, we are embracing the diverse nature of our student body, where no two artists are at the same phase in their life or have the same goal in creating. This issue of The Wildflower has sought out work that reflects the phases of the self—those moments of clarity in which we can convey an aspect of our multifaceted identities. We hope you enjoy it!

Sincerely,

Genevieve Allen Editor-In-Chief

Cover: Unseen Opposite: Overflow Yulin Ye ‘26

The

WILDFLOWER LITERARY & ARTS MAGAZINE Temple High School Temple, TX

WILDFLOWER 2024-2025 Staff

Editor-in-Chief Genevieve Allen ‘25 Prose Editor Ava Jade Fritz ‘26

Poetry Editor Julianna Morris ‘25

Art Editor Moises HernandezArias

Business Manager Nevaeh Tobe ‘26

Chief of Public Relations Rania Ahmed ‘25

Fundraising Giselle Navarro ‘26

Submissions Managers Preston Myers ‘26 & Isabel Moerbe ‘26 Staff Greggory Abney ‘26 Noor Arif ‘28 Shelby Flores ‘26 Rebeka Johson ‘28 Kadijah Kamara ‘26

Zoe King ‘28 La’shaiyah Leverette ‘26 Malachi Mejias-Treadwell ‘25 Summer Nguyen ‘26 Emily Rodness ‘26 Kamry Rodriguez ‘28

Garrett Seholm ‘26 Junius Thompson ‘26 Amari Traylor ‘26 Kyra Williams ‘25 Jane Wood ‘28

Faculty Advisor

Laura Betik Printer CenTex Printing, Temple, TX The Wildflower is Temple High School’s celebrated literary and arts magazine, a publication rooted in tradition yet driven by the creative spirit of today’s students. First established in the 1970s and revived in 2022 after a long hiatus, The Wildflower has quickly grown into a dynamic platform for student voices and artistic expression.

Now in its third year since its revival, The Wildflower continues to flourish as a nationally recognized publication. Most recently, it earned a “Superior” designation from the National Council of Teachers of English REALM Award for the second consecutive year, as well as First Class with two distinctions from the National Student Press Association. These honors reflect the passion of our contributors and the dedication of our editorial staff, who carefully review and curate hundreds of submissions from our school’s vibrant community of over 2,200 students.

More than just a magazine, The Wildflower is a living showcase of imagination and talent. Within these pages, you’ll find an inspiring collection of poetry, prose, photography, and visual art that captures the diverse experiences, ideas, and emotions of Temple High School’s student body.

Page Two | The Wildflower

TABLE OF CONTENTS POETRY AND PROSE 4

What is Love, Maribel Davis ‘26

22

Life, A Pastiche, Lauren Green ‘27 *

5

Sun & Moon, Zy’lah Blackman ‘25 ^

23

The Bench by the Lake, Taylor Skipper ‘25

6

The Language of Daises, Taylor Skipper ‘25

24-25 The United States Through the Eyes of Yuri

9

Winter Air, Steven Jones ‘27

11

Truths About Love, Temina Binoy ‘26

Guglielmana, Ava-Jade Fritz ‘26

12-13 Lost at What Cause, Nino, ‘27

26-27 Discovering Joy, Iubana Cruz ‘26 29

15

Meadows of Rehearsal, Jasmine Moreno ‘27 31

16

When I Grow Up, Jacqueline Ortiz ‘26

Is This What You Want?, Joey DeLeon ’25

32-33 Dear Honorable Immigration Judge, Giselle

18-19 I am Here, Rania Ahmed ‘25 21

Where Did My Sunshine Go?, Evelyn LeBel ‘28

Navarro ‘26

Stepping Stones, Evelyn LeBel ‘25

34-35 The Brothers Hills, Josh Bastin ‘28

ARTWORK 4-5

Untitled, Addyson Bates ‘27

22-23 Wildflower Man, Mariah Proctor ‘26 **

6-7

Color Study, Ilana Desales ‘25

24-25 My Heart Blooms Like Flowers, Trinity Hunt ‘27

8-9

The Snow Queen’s Persuasion, Carene

25

Myeisha Uy ‘28 *

26-27 Hues , Giselle Navarro ‘26

Blue Ink Pen, Addyson Bates ‘27

10-11 Camellia , Lillian Bowker ‘25

28

Raw Humanity, Lauren Green ‘27

13

29

A Man Downcast, Lauren Green

Brains for Life!!, Esmeralda Maldonado ‘26

14-15 Ihsan, Rania Ahmed ‘26

30-31 American Eyes, Alysha Osbourne ‘26

16-17 Dragonfly, Ilana Desales ’25

34-35 Trick or Treat, Yulin Ye ‘26 ^

18-19 Prophet’s Mosque, Rania Ahmed ‘25

40

Untitled, Jonás Baez ‘25

20-21 Butterfly, Alexa Greggory ‘28

^ denotes winner of the Shadow & Ink Contest *denotes winner of the Wildflower Winter Bloom Contest **denotes winner of the Spring Wildflower Flourish Contest

The Wildflower I Page Three

What is Love?

Maribel Davis ‘26

I t's very difficult to put a label on love, but there are many versions of

people's definitions. I believe love is more than just a word; I believe love isn't something you can describe but only something you can feel.

Although I agree that love is beautiful, I also agree that love can be dangerous. I grew up in a house full of toxic love, so at an early age I thought love was full of anger. I was shown multiple times that love is something you shouldn't desire. The author in the article “Why I Keep a Toxic Family Relationship in My Life” states how he kept a family member in his life because he thought he could change himself to fit into their standards. In specific words, “I could keep hoping and forcing and changing who I am to make a different pathway forward.” Although I can not put a word on love, I can tell you this is not what love looks like. Love doesn't come with disrespect and shame; it comes with trust and affection.

Love means being able to look at someone and see past their flaws, being able to see someone at their worst and still loving them for them. In the article “The Best Article on Love & Relationships,” the author states, “It’s a constant commitment to a person regardless of the present circumstances.”

This statement indicates that love is a permanent choice and not something you look for when looking for something temporary. By the author stating “constant commitment,” he also suggests how love includes promises and loyalty. This here demonstrates how love is patient by pointing out how long love forever is.

Not only a word but

also a feeling, a feeling most couldn' t describe.

Page Four | The Wildflower

Untitled by Addyson Bates

Sun & Moon Zy’lah Blackmon c/o 2025

Through the deep starry darkness of the world And the shiny, radiant sky There exist two partners in crime One who comes to welcome the grassy, sandy, and rocky landscapes With its brightness and beautiful rays Who shines above the rest In the face of the living Giving us a reason to seize the day And the other Who gives us a reason to rest our heads To put our troubles to bed And allow the thought of tomorrow ahead With its starry and mesmerizing pitch black sky Brings hope of anew in the next coming light Yet let us never forget the true mastermind The big, celestial orb of our time Which transforms itself in many different kinds Two sides of the same coin Join together in a bond Helping the Earth unwind

The Wildflower | Page Five

The Language By Taylor Skipper ‘25

of Daisies

My grandmother never told me she loved me. At least, not with words.

She wasn’t heartless, just realistic. She was a woman of few words, raised in a time when love was demonstrated rather than conveyed verbally. But she had a garden — a wild, beautiful place with tulips in spring, roses in summer, and chrysanthemums in autumn.

In that garden, I learned everything I know about love.

“Daisies mean loyalty,” she said one afternoon, kneeling next to me while I was pulling weeds. “They always turn toward the sun, even if it’s hiding.”

I was twelve when I came home from school with a scraped knee and a bruised ego because my classmate told me I was too quiet. My grandmother did not ask questions.

She just left a wee bouquet of violets on my nightstand.

“Violets mean strength,” she said and quietly left the room.

My first heartbreak came at sixteen. She gave me a single yellow rose for breakfast.

“Friendship,” she mouthed, reminding me that love comes in many forms It wasn’t until I was twenty-four, waiting beside her hospital bed, that I knew I had understood her all along.

Her voice was barely audible, and her hands were brittle, but she gestured towards a small table where a daisy stood in a chipped glass.

“Loyalty.”

Even in the end, she was still teaching me how to seek out the light.

She died that spring, when her tulips were just coming up. I returned to her garden, which had gone wild in her absence, after she was buried. So I knelt down in the dirt, desperately wanting one final lesson.

Then I noticed them — tiny white petals pushing their way up from the edge of the yard, toward the sky.

Daisies.

I smiled through my tears.

“I love you too.”

Page Six | The Wildflower

Color Study

by Ilana Desales ‘25

The Wildflower I Page Seven

The Snow Queen’s Persuasion

by Carene Myeisha Uy

Page Eight | The Wildflower

WinterAir Steven Jones ‘27

I love the winter air, not because it snows, not even because it reminds me of Christmas. I love the winter air because it kills. To the trees leafless as they sway through the cutting air. To the clouds that hang above me blocking the light everyone so desires. To the animals that go into hibernation. Winter air brings me what you might call rebirth. Some might say it feels good when you put a sweater on. I like it because it cuts my throat when I run. Some might say they like sitting next to a crackling fire. I like it when all the flowers are gone.

I’m not someone that likes death, that’s not the point. Death brings rebirth. If you look at New Year’s, everyone makes a resolution, a way to change themselves. If you look at animals, some of them go into hibernation, a way to wake up and start anew. It’s the same for me, and that's why I like it. Some people can’t see their flaws, they think they don’t have to change. Yet, once the winter air hits your skin it makes you yearn for spring. Where everything is beautiful, perfect, flawless. The trees bloom, the grass is green, the rain pours, the flowers blossom. That’s the point. The point is that people wish for better. No matter if you're popular, pretty, rich, poor, kind, mean, smart, dumb, we’re all human and the winter air shows us our flaws.

I walked in this school year, thinking it was going to be easy. But I realized, you can’t be correct every time. You can’t get that 100 on every test. You can’t always make the team. You can’t get that perfect life everyone wants. So when you feel the chilly air graze your face, it's the winter air telling you to restart. And that’s why I love it.

The Wildflower I Page Nine

Camellia

By Lillian Bowker ‘25

Page Ten | The Wildflower

bout Love Truths byA Temina Binoy‘26

L ove is different in everyone's eyes.

I believe that there are no two people that view love the same way. This is because everyone has their own versions and definitions of love with different life experiences to compare it to. Although I may not have the most exciting or eventful experiences in my life, I am certain that I know love. I know what it is, what it isn’t, and everything in between. This essay will dive into the truth about love and how it is not what a person always thinks.

Every person has their own definition of love. To an old couple, love can mean forgiving and forgetting to stay with each other for better or worse. A young couple may picture love to be an idealistic fantasy, thinking it is the affection they give to each other. Meanwhile, a group of childhood friends can think love is when they are always there for each other. There is no direct definition of love, as it is a feeling unique to everyone.

Like everything, love had an origin.

An article written by BetterHelp explains how love originated from Plato’s love myth. Plato relates a tale concerning the beginning of human love in his Symposium. The tale described humans as two-headed, four-legged, upright-walking beings.

Zeus chose to punish them by dividing them in half because they were strong creatures who posed a threat to the gods. These "creatures" felt incomplete and yearned for their other halves after being divided in half. Betterhelp says, “Their longing for completion was what we know today as ‘love.’” This demonstrates how the idea of love has existed since the beginning of time, emphasizing its importance to humankind.

Love can often be mistaken for many things. Some examples include infatuation, lust, attachment, obsession, fantasy, and desperation.

However, these feelings are not arbitrary; they depend on how a person treats another. Whether it is friendly, flirty, or uninterested, the way a person treats you affects the way you feel about them. An example of this is love bombing, when someone shows immense interest in you without having genuine feelings.

An article written by Kristen Fischer states, “Love bombing is an emotional manipulation technique that involves giving someone excessive compliments, attention, or affection to eventually control them. You may not be able to spot love bombing until you’re in the midst of it because it may feel like being swept off your feet at the start of a new relationship.” The sudden affection can overwhelm a person, making them believe that they are in love. These ingenuine emotions can confuse one to believe that affection is love. Sometimes one likes the attention they get from a person rather than the actual person.

Love is not the excitement a person gets from affection. Another thing is love is not infatuation. Infatuation is when you feel very attracted to someone without having an actual reason.

People often “fall in love” with a person based on an idealized version of them. Oftentimes when you have a crush, you think about the person all the time. This leads to fake scenarios and altering their personality to your dream person, causing you to like an idea of a person instead of the person themself.

I have never been romantically in love with someone. However, there was a point where I thought I was. Someone gave me more affection than I had ever experienced in a very short amount of time. I did not know how to feel and got confused with my feelings. It was only after we broke up that I realized that was not love. In other words, this person love-bombed me and I grew very fond of the attention I was getting

Work Cited BetterHelp Editorial Team. Origin of Love and Affection: Myths and Science | BetterHelp. 10 Oct. 2024, www.betterhelp.com/advice/love/origin-of-love-myths-and-science.

and not the actual person.

There is a longing everyone asks, “How do you know if you are in love?”

The truth is, love is so complicated that it is different for everyone. However, there are some very obvious signs.

Loving someone means prioritizing them, giving them time and energy strengthening the connection you have with them. It means wanting what is best for them even if it may affect you negatively. Love is steadfast, being there for them in every phase of their lives, whether it is joy or adversity. On top of everything, love is having a genuine connection that is not based on looks but instead on the person they are.

I understand love because I experience it daily, even beyond romance. A prime example of love is my best friends, who I consider my family. I will, without hesitation, put them before me in any situation.

They've stood by me through every phase of life, helping me grow into who I am today. Every time I think about love, I think about them. They are the standard that I have for love. In my definition, love is about mutual growth and support. To love someone, they have to have had an effect on you that probably no one else could have done.

A person that you love should be a person that is irreplaceable to you.

In conclusion, love is an intricate and elusive emotion, one that does not have one permanent definition. Developed from experience, time, and feelings, love is something that is so personal and different to every person. It can bring immense joy but also frustration because of its complicity. Those who are lucky enough to experience true love have lived the richest and fullest form of life.

The Wildflower I Page 11

Lost At What Cause

By Nino ‘27

I almost reached for you, almost let the words spill from my lips, but hesitation was quicker than my courage.

All that was left were rips; Of my heart, full of my tears You stood there, eyes full of something I was too afraid to name, in my eyes; fears And in that silence, the moment slipped between us like sand through open fingers.

Those words now lost Now, I see you in passing, your laughter belonging to someone else, your hand resting where mine never did.

I tell myself it wasn’t meant to be, but some nights, I still wonder what we might have been if only I had said your name just once the way I meant it to be.

Page Twelve | The Wildflower

Brains for Life!!

By Esmeralda Maldonado ‘26 The Wildflower I Page Thirteen

Ihsan

Rania Ahmed ‘25

Page Fourteen I The Wildflower Page Fourteen | The Wildflower

M e a d ow of R e h e a rs a l Jasmine Moreno ‘27

I have one wish To frolic in the green meadows But now they are no longer green I can no longer frolic as I wish Freedom longs for me As I for it I simply wish for cyclamens now For a while I yearned for the meadows But now the meadows have withered All I see are Petunias They hold the stories of my past Things like evergreen To a clarinet I’ve sold my soul to the meadows I've tried to leave, but I was already in too deep Too many yellow hyacinths Too many tiger lilies Too many yellow poppies Too many yellow roses The white-withered roses began to conquer I only wish to frolic in the red rosebud meadows Like I did once before I was promised crocus, dandelions, red rosebuds But instead I got mock orange, primrose, pink larkspur The meadows reasoned with marigolds Yo u ’ v e t a k e n e v e r y t h i n g e l s e Candytuft is all I have left In this world of dead leaves I invite you, my friend To come collect Viscaria, with me.

The Wildflower I Page Fifteen

When I Grow Up

by Jacqueline Ortiz ‘25

When you’re nine years old, you don’t expect anything to happen to you. You don't understand the world. You just want to have fun and be rebellious, but sometimes it doesn't always work out that way. Reality always has a way of bursting your bubble.

It was a normal day of school. Waking up early during winter, feeling the cold breeze linger around your house. As I was putting my socks on, I felt a throbbing pain in my right foot. I told my mom. “It’s okay; you probably just stepped on it wrong; it’ll go away,” my mom said. She walks me to the bus stop, and I get on. I didn’t really think of it, so I just let my day go on. As the day went on, I found myself limping. I remember one of my friends asking me if I was okay.

I just said yes and moved on. When I went home, the pain became more intense. I couldn’t walk. We waited a few days to see if the swelling and pain would subside. It never did, but instead got worse. The next day my parents decided to take me to the ER. After hours and hours of waiting, a doctor comes to see what’s wrong, and he starts feeling around my ankle.

The swelling was very notable at this point, so of course that was their main concern. After drawing some blood to take some tests. They didn’t see anything out of the ordinary; it was just that my ankle was swollen. They put an IV in my arm. I was in so much pain, I passed out. I remember waking up in a puddle of my own sweat. I just remember the doctor telling my parents I had a bone infection. My dad’s jaw dropped in shock.

The origin was unknown. All they knew was that I needed to be transferred to a children's hospital in Chicago immediately. By this point the infection had traveled up to my leg. I settled into the new hospital. After a few days of them taking care of me, that’s when it happened.

Nurses rushed into my room saying I needed to have surgery; otherwise, they would need to amputate my leg. I remember bursting into tears. I was so terrified. What if I were to die? What if I were to never wake up again? But what could I do? I had no choice. I remember fading slowly away from this world of consciousness. Before I knew it, four hours had gone by. I woke up, and I remember everything hurting; it felt like I had been hit by a bus. I looked down to find a foot-long, stitched-up incision. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t feel my leg. Being nine years old, I didn’t understand how this could happen. I asked myself, How did I get here? How did I go from running at recess to not even being able to walk? I wished I had enjoyed such simple tasks as walking, running, and even standing on my own. Sooner rather than later I realized it didn’t matter. What mattered was I couldn’t walk. I had to snap back into the reality of being stuck in bed and in a wheelchair all day. I had to relearn how to walk again. It was the hardest truth and goal I had to achieve.

The hardest truth I had to learn was I had to walk again. Your and my life could change at any moment. We can’t take what we have for granted, ever. We must be grateful for what we have.

Page Sixteen | The Wildflower

Dragonf ly

by Ilana Desales ‘25

The Wildflower I Page Seventeen

Prophet’s Mosque

│ Rania Ahmed ‘25

[February 23, 2025]

Bismillah.

Alhamdulillah. All praise and thanks are due to Allah. How extremely lifechanging these past 10 days have been and how desperately I needed them so.

How honored am I, me, a random teenage girl in the middle-of-nowhere, Texas, to be invited by Allah to perform Umrah: a divine opportunity for a humble sinner to find strength in faith.

Clinging tightly to my way of life, Islam, I visited the place I face five times a day in prayer, where I am reminded of the oneness of Allah, His final messenger (peace be upon him), and my true purpose in life.

“By the morning sunlight, and the night when it falls still! Your Lord ˹O Prophet˺ has not abandoned you, nor has He become hateful ˹of you˺.” (Quran 93:1-3).

Performing my first Umrah, I found myself retracing my journey, reflecting on how far I have come. I was raised in a small town in Texas, walking through the hallways of public school, neighborhood parks, downtown shops. Even so, along the way, I walked towards and away from choices, opportunities, and lessons.

I learned from my experiences and mistakes, and noted to myself certain paths I will do my best to avoid.

Nonetheless, every turn, every step has brought me to who I am today.

Ultimately, alhamdulillah, I walked away from my microbiology class and headed towards the airport. From plane to plane, destination to destination, I journeyed toward something worthwhile, something essential.

Obtaining Ihram, I entered a state of concentration to prepare for my first Muslim pilgrimage. Then, only time separated me from the Kaaba. Standing in awe, I absorbed the might of the Kaaba, comprehending the impact and meaning it has left on this world.

Now, I stepped back in the land of the “American dream”, and it is hard for me to get over, difficult for me to move on, tough for me to accept that this Umrah is now kept safe in between time and memory. InshaAllah, I will go back.

Nevertheless, alhamdulillah, I did not leave empty-handed. I have been given a life-long gift in which I see the world in a different, clearer light. This has recently left me with two concepts I have been reflecting over.

Page Eighteen | The Wildflower Eight | The Wildflower

First, I don’t need any more than I have, and second, things that have left me were never meant to be kept.

Attachment can be a tricky thing because of the temporary nature of this life. Hear me out. I am most “happy” when I am content. When I need nothing more or less than I already have.

However, this worldly life, dunya, can be shiny and loud, making you blind and deaf to the blessings right in front of you.

Obtaining a mellow nature and quiet life has allowed me to learn that I really don’t need as much. However, bound to happen eventually, in a sneaky way, I slightly felt the consequences of attachment after my umrah trip.

Desiring more time, perhaps a different life, so maybe, there is a possibility I could relive those past 10 days over and over. My Islam grounds me by reminding me Earth is not heaven for a reason. Earth is not heaven for a reason because it was never about the blessing, but the Blesser, Allah.

Alhamdulillah, the pain that comes with loving has shown me the immense protection loving for the sake of Allah brings. By the protection of Allah, the only thing that will never leave me is my relationship with Him. My Rabb—my Sustainer, Nourisher, and Cherisher—tells me, “Remember me; I will remember you.” (Quran 2:152) Therefore, I will strengthen myself by doing everything for His sake.

As I can only control and own my actions, nothing but my Islam can truly define me; therefore, I am learning to accept what life brings me. This guards me from the fickle nature of this worldly life and reminds me why I do anything at all: for the sake of Allah.

Another aspect of attachment is change. I always tell myself I am not afraid of change because it's proof that nothing is finite. The bad will soon pass, as well as the good. Nothing in this world is forever. It’s a balance of reality.

Alhamdulillah, as Muslims, this conclusion does not leave us in despair. It does not leave us in despair because we know our end goal is everlasting. It’s Jannah. It’s reuniting with Allah and those beloved to Him. It’s something that will always be infinitely better than anything we could ever imagine. With that reality, the challenging nature of this dunya is i

inevitable. Even though everything I once loved will eventually fade away, I know it is only the creation that is temporary, while the Creator remains eternal. Therefore, my love for Allah grows with each thing I find to love here.

As my life grows old, though—growing out of high school, relationships, and time—I’ve learned that everything I once believed I owned was never truly mine.

Nothing was ever truly mine because of the consistent quality of its ability to change and eventually end. “Indeed, all belongs to Allah, and indeed, to Him all returns.” (Quran 2:156) Truthfully, there is always so much to be grateful for: one’s ability to see the sun rising, a healthy body functioning, food to come home to.

How could I have been so unaware, so oblivious, to all the blessings I never did anything to deserve? How can I encapsulate my gratitude for the blessings I can see, as well as those my human nature fails to notice? Islam teaches me to make a conscious effort to stay aware, to appreciate every moment before time passes by, and to remain resilient in the face of pain, knowing that it is temporary. Instead of feeling entitled to what comes in and out of my life, I now see these experiences as steps toward my ultimate goal.

Furthermore, I've finally understood the concept that every end is the start to a new beginning. With every new chapter, with every end of a season, I step forward on my path, getting closer to my ultimate goal. Remembering my purpose in this life and death often wakes me up and allows me to find comfort in knowing any stress this dunya can put on me is simply never that deep.

As of right now, though, I am sad.

Not upset.

Just sad.

This feeling is heavy. The feeling a child gets when they get dropped off on their first day of kindergarten. The daunting Sunday anxiety. The feeling of having to take responsibility.

This trip saved me from being diluted by this dunya. Where doubts and shame consumed me, this trip cleansed me.

There is so much I am determined to cherish and keep safe within my memory. Seeing the Kaaba for the first

time and hearing the adhan.

Witnessing so many walks of life yet all standing in unison, worshiping the Oneness of Allah. As I hiked the mountain where revelation was sent down, it was funny and almost surreal to think that, due to time change, I would be in my environmental science class right now.

Being surrounded by Muslims, only to return back as the lone hijabi, deepened my appreciation and sincerity in my relationship with Allah, knowing He has honored me immensely to be a part of this Ummah, those who follow in the way of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

Wearing abayas and drinking karak chai. The carpet, the fragrance, the cats.

It was all simply life-changing. I got to hear the comforting voices of Islamic teachers right in front of me, when usually it's through my headphones as I walk down the chaotic high school hallways. I had the pleasure of meeting incredible people with whom I've shared this blessed Umrah journey. I am extremely grateful to gain a community that loves me as I am and continually inspires me to grow and reach who I can become. And! The! Knowledge! I had the opportunity to immerse myself in an environment I had only previously imagined through lectures and connect with the Quran and Sunnah on a deeply transformative level that impacted my way of life.

Ya Allah, how grateful I am for it all to have been real.

As life returns back to normal, I am able to smile as, alhamdulillah, it’s a new kind of normal. A normal that can recall memories in front of the Kaaba and Masjid Nabawi. A normal that unconditionally loves for the sake of Allah. A normal that has full trust, tawaqal, on Allah.

Now, my journey continues, and I’m not sure what forks in the road I may encounter, but I find comfort in knowing it will lead me to my ultimate goal by the will of Allah. This world can be exhausting, but I’m learning to manage as I work to represent Islam faithfully, holding on to resilience and keeping consciousness of Allah. While the dunya may make it seem like we’re going to live forever, in reality, I have much to improve on, and frankly, not enough time to do so.

So, I will keep enduring and worshiping by day, praying and seeking refuge at night, and doing my best to make the most of this time, as I don’t want to waste the opportunity known as life.

Labbayk Allahumma Labbayk. Here I am, O Allah, here I am. Whether I am in Mecca or in Temple, Texas, I know Allah is here.

‫ﻚ‬ ‫ﻴ‬ ‫ﺒ‬ ‫ﻟ‬ َ ‫ﱠ‬ َْ ‫َك‬ ★

I am Here Rania Ahmed ‘25

The Wildflower I Page Nineteen

Butterf ly Alexa Greggory ‘28

Page Twenty | The Wildflower

Stepping Stones

by Evelyn LeBel ‘28 The water is silent.

All but disturbed As it shimmers in the beautiful light.

In the water lay stepping stones; One, Two, Three, And so, so many more.

I take my first step Onto the stepping stones, Nearly slipping as it shook under my weight.

Another step I do take, And step after step after step do I go, Yet this path seems endless, For there is no sign of home Beyond the path of stepping stones.

What is it that calls me along this path?

I do not know; For the skies are peaceful And the landscape radiant with such unimaginable beauty So much so that I almost don’t want to go.

Yet, I continue my journey anyway.

Step after step after step.

The stepping stones grow more stable And my resolve stronger As I go along this endless, dream-like path.

Alas, I see something!

So far away!

A shining light, brighter than anything else.

I follow it.

Wondering, Hoping, Hoping that I will reach my home Far beyond this path of stepping stones.

The Wildflower I Page Twenty-One

Life,

A P a st i c h e

By Lauren Green ‘27

Life, that loves to change and shift, With cunning quickness, brutality swift, Extracted from people as they grow old Or before their story is ever told, To me it is a beautiful thing It is, always was, and always will be— Life is a mentor, hero, villain— A gift, though never once a guarantee By the grace of God it can last long, Not quite—for those who do much wrong.

Compare it to a flower Beautiful while it does last Life has no time for idle cares I think, because the possibilities are so vast And when comes a time with calmer wings You’ll know, life had plans for greater heights No, not always with a rhythm or rhyme Much too rough—too much spite!

Perhaps, though, with gentle time Unless He fiddles with the strings.

Wildf lower Man Ma r i a h P ro c t o r ‘ 2 6

Page Twenty-Two | The Wildflower

The Bench by the

T he first time I noticed him, he sat alone on the old bench by the lake, gazing at the water. He seemed as though he were waiting for something. I had recently relocated to a small, tranquil town in the hills filled with pine trees. My walks in the morning had become a very structured and normal thing in a life that felt like it was getting a little bit crazy.

I didn’t notice him at first. He didn’t stand out, like the geese flying overhead or the ancient willow tree bending down to the water. But after driving by for a week, I noticed he was there all the time. Same time, same spot. One day, I just didn’t.

“Morning,” I said slowly.

He turned toward me, his face creased with age, but his blue eyes bright. He nodded, but he didn't speak.

I was at the other end of the bench to give a little space. We sat and watched the lake for a time in silence. As I was about to leave, he spoke.

My wife and I used to come here every morning,” he said, his voice ragged but resolute. I sat up straight. He didn’t look at me.

“She loved this place. Made everything feel quieter, even when it wasn’t.”

I didn’t find out what had happened to her. I already

Lake

Taylor Skipper ‘25

knew. The next day, I made another stop. He gave me a nod. Finally, a few days later, he said, “Morning.”

would bring coffee and always prepare a cup for me without asking. It was always really good.

As time moved on, the conversations got deeper. He told stories about his life — how he built houses for forty years and how things were fixed back when, not thrown away. He spoke of his wife, Margaret, as if she were still in the room with him. He recalled how she hummed when she was happy and that she always had peppermint candies in her pocket.

He recalled how she hummed when she was happy and that she always had peppermint candies in her pocket.

“She died last winter,” he told me one morning, his voice gentler than usual. Sixty-two years. First winter alone.”

My throat tightened.

Now more like travel companions sitting side by side in silence, sharing our lives, we continued on that bank. When fall arrived, he would bring coffee and always prepare a cup for me without asking. It was always really good.

As time moved on, the conversations got deeper. He told stories about his life — how he built houses for forty years and how things were fixed back when, not thrown away. He spoke of his wife, But one late November Margaret, as if she were still in morning, he didn’t come. I the room with him. thought he was just going to be He recalled how she hummed late. But day after day, nobody when she was happy and that occupied the bench. The she always had peppermint weight of it sank into my chest. candies in her pocket.

A week or so later, a neighbor She died last winter,” he told arrived to inform me that he me one morning, his voice had peacefully died in his sleep. gentler than usual.

Sixty-two years. First winter alone.”

My throat tightened.

Now more like travel companions sitting side by side in silence, sharing our lives, we continued on that bank. When fall arrived, he

That day, I went down to the lake, sat on our bench, and stared at the water like we often did. The world was quiet still, but it felt different.

As I left, I laid out a tiny tin of peppermint candies on the bench and murmured, “Good morning.”

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The United States

Through the Eyes of Yuri Guglielmana Ava-Jade Fritz ‘26 / February 2, 2025

“At 17 years old, Yuri talks about his experience as an exchange student studying abroad in America from Italy.”

Leaving home to find yourself and build

My Heart Blooms Like Flowers

by Trinity Hunt ‘27

Page Twenty-Four | The Wildflower

your own routine is one of the most significant building blocks of a young person's adult life: to venture outside of what you’ve always known into a whole new world.

An exchange student is a scholar in an academic program who temporarily studies in a foreign country, typically for cultural and/or credit benefits. Yuri Guglielmana has chosen the USA as his home for the next year—why the states were his top choice will be heavily discussed in this conversation. While Yuri has heavily enjoyed American culture in his short time here, he has been working hard by taking extra classes to earn enough credit to graduate with the class of 2025 as a senior, making him the first exchange student at Temple High School to graduate with a diploma.

In his interview, Yuri will talk a little about Italy, the key points of his experiences in America, why he decided to study here at such a young age, and his interest in potentially pursuing higher education in the states.

A: “I’m from Lombardia, Italy, near Lake Como” Q: Why did you decide to become a foreign exchange student? Did you get to choose where you went?

A: “I didn’t choose to come to Temple; I decided to go for an exchange program when I started high school. It was my dream, and I wanted to explore a new country—be around a new language, new people, and a new culture, learning a little bit more about it. And the United States was one of my options, actually, because there are a lot of opportunities in the states, so I decided to come here. I didn’t really know till June when I saw the notification that a family chose me because it’s the family that chooses you; it’s not that you can decide where you go, but based on the application that you send.”

Though Yuri is a senior at THS, he has one more year to complete in Italy, as the education system in Italian high schools typically has 5 years. After returning to his home country after the 2025 graduation ceremony wraps up, he will complete his last year at ISS Marcopolo High School in Italy to get his diploma in information and technology, as his passion is in videography. Once he obtains both his diploma in America and Italy, he’ll be able to pursue a higher education in both countries.

What to know more? Finish Yuri’s interview here

→

Blue Ink Pen

by Addyson Bates ‘27

Q: What part of Italy are you from?

“There are a lot of things different; there are a lot. It’s much bigger because I came from a small town. I showed the pictures [of] where I live to some of my friends, and they were like, “Why [did] you come to Temple, TX? They were surprised by the nature and towns of Italy—they also told me that Temple is a boring and quiet town, but since I’ve never been in America, everything is new and fun for me, from the small to the big traditions.

Q: What were some big culture shocks for you here?

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Discovering Joy

by Iubana Cruz ‘26

T

“ o find real joy in life, you have to be willing to look for it. It takes effort and dedication.” Joy is for everyone, but you have to be willing to find it somewhere in you. Indeed, joy has science to it.

Joy is out there, but you have to go out and be adventurous. You can't just stay and wait for it to come to you. Many definitions are out there for joy: the way you interact with it, the way you find it, the way you use it, and the way you control it. Defining this word has such a big control on how it affects you.

If you didn’t know yet, joy has science behind it. Many things can happen inside your body when you interact with it. In the article, Jennifer Oaten states that joy “extends beyond our neural pathways; it orchestrates a holistic physiological response that benefits our entire being.” What does that mean? In my words, it means once you find it, it changes your whole person, and you either become better.

However, Harvard also defines the science behind it by saying, “showing that the quality of our relationships significantly affects our physical health, from heart health to immune function.” Do you think this also might be true? Due to personal experience, I think it is true.

Have I ever felt joy? Yes, I have. And I will say, it mostly came from the close relationships I have created with the people I love the most. What did I feel? I felt the inside of my body getting too excited. I felt warmth that filled me inside and made me smile too much. It made my mouth hurt too much. And I can confirm it changed the personality I had inside of me. I had a strong emotion in my heart and the rest inside of me. But the way you interact with joy is your own definition of it.

Yes, many are finding close bonds, but who knows? Others find the happiness of it through succeeding, completing a task, or having something you really like in your life.

So what is joy to me? My definition of this small 3-letter word has a very big definition that may relate to others. I have many personal experiences, and I have to say, joy can come from anything that brings you happiness.

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Joy is the biggest emotion that can make YOUR life better. Depending on what you have interacted with, whatever it is. It makes you happy and makes your heart pump. That is joy.

This comes from actually going out and going out of your comfort zone to find what makes YOU happy. This resource by Sheetal Vn (2022) could say the same. Joy can be started by anything that you do, like “in love, in eating, in sleeping, in everything, in meeting people, in listening to others shares, in witnessing life happening, in being YOU.”

Works Cited Bastow, Margo. “The Science of Joy - Jennifer Oaten.” Santa Maria College, 15 Mar. 2024, santamaria.wa.edu.au/scienceof-joy/.

Hues by Giselle Navarro c/o 2026

Hues by Giselle Navarro ‘26

Sheetal V N. “What Is Joy?” Linkedin.com, 12 Aug. 2022, www.linkedin.com/pulse/whatreal-joy-sheetal-vijay. Accessed 21 Oct. 2024.

The Wildflower I Page Twenty-Seven

Lauren Green ‘27

Raw Humanity

Page Twenty-Eight | The Wildflower

Where Did My Sunshine Go? Evelyn LeBel ‘28

Wherever you walked, Bright rays of warmth lay in your wake.

Whenever you talked, The singing birds quieted to listen.

Their attention for you to take.

Wherever you ran, The most beautiful of Mother Nature followed.

Yet, where you now stand, The once gorgeous rays that you emitted are no more.

As the world grows darker, And your light weaker, The lights of others begin to shine.

Yet not as bright as yours.

Where did you go?

Where did my sunshine go?

For you are taking too long a rest, And now I stand here, Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Waiting to see your light once again.

A Man Downcast Lauren Green ‘27

The Wildflower I Page Twenty-Nine

American Eyes by Alysha Osbourne ‘26

“I will forever blame the adults that gave us national fear as our heirloom.”

Page Thirty | The Wildflower

I s T h i s W h at

by Joey DeLeon ‘25

Yo u Wa nt ?

I have nothing to write about,

nothing educational that is. Our system is burning and everyone is watching the embers spread. If you were to listen to anyone, it should be us. The students that walk through the flames firsthand. Instead of extinguishing the fire, they fed it wood from trees already rotting. I will forever blame the adults that gave us national fear as our heirloom. In the name of manifest destiny and the pursuit of happiness, they destroy, take, and conquer. For centuries, America has operated this way with no one to interject. This is because fear is their weapon.

They use our lack of money to turn us against each other.

Without a green bill, we would descend into madness. Man against man over paper that was given momentary value. They have pushed the American dream so far that the people believe it is realistically attainable. I have found that adults still believe Uncle Sam is on their side, that a million dollars for decades of work is fair, while the human race grovels for change on the side of the road.

the higher ups laugh, milking the working class for everything they are worth. What's worse is this is tame. We are the lucky ones.

Around the world, people are being bombed, deprived of education, trafficked, and modern-day slaves just to line the pockets of those who were supposed to protect us. Our rights were not given to us by asking nicely; we need to talk, resist, and band together. They want this; they want to divide us, whether it's through money or politics, but truly the root of it all is the billionaires. They overconsume, then blame it on the public. They are hurting our planet and our people, and no one blinks an eye. They lie, and everyone accepts it.

Never believe they care for you, or we would not be witnessing what we are today. The exploitation of our people and our land will only get worse from here. They will continue to take because they know we will do nothing. They are banking on distractions such as the “American Dream” to keep us docile lap dogs. It's working.

Don’t let the riches blind you, don’t let them tell you are overreacting. This is happening in real time. We can see the corruption with our own two eyes. We have played their game for far too long. Is this what you want? To be a piggy bank for a man that barely lifts his finger?

The Wildflower I Page Thirty-One

Dear Dear Honorable Honorable Immigration Immigration Judge Judge

by Giselle Navarro ‘26

Page Thirty-Two | The Wildflower

e To continuelle’s is reading Gan the c s , y stor co d e

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Trick or Treat by Yulin Ye ‘26 Page Thirty-Four | The Wildflower

T h e B rot h e r s H i l l s

by Josh Bastin ‘28 T

he hot summer sun shined down on everything it could touch. One thing it seemed to especially beat down upon, was two figures. One had curly, blonde hair which nearly blinded anyone who made eye contact with it. The other had straight, brown hair. It was so dark, it made every flower wilt. The 2 boys sat together in a parking lot, outside a semi-large building. Semi-dirty windows were on the front of the house..

Crumbling bricks were the structure for the building. If you were to touch the house, the building would collapse like that.

Concrete in the parking lot had been cooked well by the sun, which made it painful to sit on.

They were both wearing backpacks that looked like they would burst at any moment.

“You okay, Mike? " said the blonde kid. Mike looked up at the person who had spoken, then looked back.

“I’m fine,” he replied in a monotone voice. The blonde looked at Mike. He smiled.

“Oh come on!” he said, wrapping his arms around Mike’s neck, “Don’t be so gloomy!” Alex looked up at the sky.

“This heat is the WORST!” He flipped his blonde hair back so he could see clearly again. Mike only sat in a curled ball, slowly becoming a rocking chair. Alex knew something was up, but he didn’t have time to ask. Two vehicles pulled up to the side of the sidewalk. One was a clean, red SUV. The other was a beat up old Explorer. A windshield that had small cracks on a corner shielded the figure inside. The window to

the SUV rolled down.

A brunette-haired woman was sitting in the driver's seat. She wore a lime green shirt with a minion on it saying ‘I Need Coffee’ on it.

She was wearing a pair of denim jeans, despite it being the middle of summer. She called out in a cheery tone, “Alex! Get in the back!”

A window to the Explorer rolled down. Inside was a skinny, blondhaired man. His nails were covered with grime. His hands were covered in dirt. His hairy legs sat firmly on the floor of the car. His face showed a meanlooking scowl, also covered with a dirty substance, and he yelled, “MIKE!, GET IN! WE DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!” His voice was a hoarse gurgle. He wore a dark red, blue, and green tie-dye tank top, exposing a tattoo of a fire extinguisher wrapped in a fire hose. Before Alex could step a foot towards the SUV, he felt a tug on his red shirt.

“Alex.” Mike whispered, “Don’t make me go. He’s gonna KILL me!” Alex broke free of his brothers’ grip and loomed over him.

“Listen!” Alex said sharply. “I’m not up for your stupid games!”

Mike stood back a few inches away from his older brother. He looked to the cooked parking lot.

He had no other choice. He sighed as he entered the almost fallingapart Explorer. Alex went to the strawberry-colored SUV and opened the door. He threw his bag in and clicked the seatbelt around him. “Aren’t you excited?”

The woman said. Alex stared out

the glass into the trees. “I guess, Mom.” Alex sighed. “It’s just that we can never do anything with Dad anymore.” The woman looked sorrowfully at her son.

“Well, you know, with his record it’s very hard for him to find a job.

“I know.” Alex replied. The car traveled for about 10 minutes before arriving at the destination.

It was a large house.

The bricks were painted blue.

Clean windows with lots of luster stood motionless in the house.

The door was a nice shade of tan.

Overall, it was your average house on the block. Alex grabbed his bag and waited at the front door.

His mother grabbed a large bracelet of keys and fiddled with them until she found the right one. She inserted the key into the lock and turned it. A second later, the door opened, and Alex and his mother went inside. The interior was just as good as the exterior.

There were pots of flowers that sat nicely on a small round table.

There was not a speck of mold or dust or anything to be found. A large coffee table sat in the middle of the room.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying for the week.” Alex’s mother said, leading Alex to another part of the house.

To rea cont sto ding inue ry, J sca osh’s c o d n th e e

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How to Submit to The Wildflower Temple High School students, grades nine through twelve, are invited to submit their literary and artistic work to The Wildflower through the submission manager below.

Students may submit as many pieces as they wish, though each submission should be entered separately. Submissions are accepted year-round.

To ensure fairness and objectivity, all submissions are reviewed anonymously, with student names removed prior to the critique and selection process. Throughout the year, The Wildflower will also host various themed competitions in writing and art, offering students additional opportunities to be recognized and published.

Authors and artists retain the copyright to their work but grant The Wildflower permission to publish submissions in the magazine and use them for promotional purposes, as determined by the editorial staff.

Questions about The Wildflower may be directed to THS.Wildflower@tisd.org.

tinyurl.com/WildflowerSubmit

Colophon The Wildflower was constructed using Canva on a PC. The masthead font utilized on the cover is Safira March, size 55 and 13.5. The font used for literary titles is also Safira March in various sizes ranging from 45 to 65. Body text is Georgia Pro set at sizes 12 or 14. Bylines, in-set titles, and pagination are in Montserrat at sizes 10, 14, and 16. Drop caps are in Twister size 30. The pieces in The Wildflower, 2025, were chosen by the Wildflower Editorial Staff and selection committees. The magazine was produced by Temple High School's Wildflower Magazine Club. The Wildflower is published each spring for Temple High School's 2,200 students and 170 staff members. The Wildflower is a member of the following organizations: the National Scholastic Press Association and the National Council of Teachers of English.

Page Thirty-Six | The Wildflower

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Become a Patron

If you would like to support our work, consider becoming one of our tremendous patrons.

For more information, go to tinyurl.com/THSWildflowerPatron25-26

Special Thanks

The Wildflower would not be possible without the creative collaboration and generous support of our campus and community. We extend our deepest thanks to the Temple High School Art, English, and Graphic Design Departments for their vital contributions—whether through promotion, encouragement, or the incredible student submissions they inspire.

We are especially grateful for the continued support of Dr. Jason Mayo, our principal; Dr. Bobby Ott, our superintendent; and the Temple Education Foundation. Your belief in student voices and the arts makes this publication possible.

The Wildflower I Page Thirty-Seven

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High

Te m p l e ,

School

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Untitled by Jonás Baez ‘25