Marie Cartier – Page 4 – Feminism and Religion

Virgin Mary Blue: A short story by Marie Cartier

Nicole stared at the blue water in the pool. It was so wet and so blue—Virgin Mary blue. It was so hot in Texas, she thought that over and over, ever since her parents moved the family to Fort Worth for her dad’s job.

They were living at the Naval Air Station. It was 1965 and they did not have air conditioning in their apartment: with its one bathroom, two parents and four kids. The heat was an animal. To escape it she played in the mud between the buildings. This was nothing like the woods of New Hampshire, but here they were and they weren’t going home—maybe ever. That’s what her mother said.

A Plant that would Feed the World by Marie Cartier

I have thought a lot about planting seeds—seeds I want to plant and of course grow– the new varietal of blue mustard green, for instance.

It’s the thing to think about in fall– harvesting and planting.

But what else? What if I could plant—anything. Anything at all.

What would I want to grow? What would I want to plant?

Do I Feel Safe in America? by Marie Cartier

Do I feel safe in America- that’s what you want to know, right? Such a good question—and excuse me, but ridiculous. Four hundred and seventeen anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced in state legislatures across the United States since the start of the year — a new record, according to the American Civil Liberties Union, as of April 2023.

I could on – but you get the idea.

I feel safe I guess in California, in my own home, in my own bed—but as a woman you rarely feel totally “safe.” Most every woman I know, me included, is a rape survivor. It’s not unusual– it’s common– but feeling safe I think is unusual. Feeling loved isn’t– but safe? That’s “a horse of a different color” as they say in Oz, and even Dorothy wasn’t safe there—although I continually wonder why she ever returned to Kansas.

The Tree in my Front Yard by Marie Cartier

I have not been in this room for three years- except to run in and out -the pandemic made me claustrophobic and anyway I usually need a coffee shop environment to write and we were in lock down so my wife and I transformed our living room to a coffeeshop, Fig and Hillary’s- so named for the huge Hillary poster on the wall and the fig trees in the backyard. My office became a storage room piled high with—what? Stuff.

Then, finally… it seemed the pandemic –at least in terms of dire death prediction—was perhaps over. It took most of this post pandemic year to get up out of the living room where I had encamped to come back to here—my actual office. To put the bookshelves back and—to turn my desk around so I am not facing the door but facing the window.

Pride Season 2023 by Marie Cartier

Here you come again

Twenty-three states banning drag, 100 bills being considered

Just when I’m about to make it work without you

F*** you GOP

You look into my eyes and lie those pretty lies

Abortion is settled law

Gay marriage is settled law

Who Will Plant and Who Will Harvest by Marie Cartier

A Poem 3/27/23

We see the beginnings of fruit trees.
The first fruit, my Jewish friend says:

The best of spring—as fruit
Is what makes luxury, she says.

We could just eat vegetables –but
With fruit we have extra luxury, we have extra—
We have wine. Cheers- we have luxury.

Oscar in the Year 2050 by Marie Cartier

Thank you to –the Oscars!

My movie SCAVENGE FOR YOUR LIFE. I’m so thrilled to be nominated and to WIN! Thank you!

In the year 2050—and here we are, right? Am I right? Right!

SCAVENGE FOR YOUR LIFE. In the year 2050 when we are lucky to have this beautiful theater in downtown Los Angeles.

Here we are! I mean…we are eating and drinking in the gorgeous ambient light of street lights! And first, I want to make sure to thank and appreciate all the efforts made here to create this stage on the site of the former Dolby Theater!

Women’s March in CA 1/22/23 by Marie Cartier

WOMENS MARCH, Long Beach, California on the 50th anniversary of the passing of Roe v Wade,
January 22, 2023

A Fable for the Season by Marie Cartier

Once upon a time there was a person who only saw themselves in the mirror—even if someone else was passing by in the background, and they certainly never saw the shadows of all the people who had helped them in their life swimming in their eyes. That’s the way it is sometimes—we just don’t see what we don’t want to see.

And every day this person would look into the mirror, adjust their hair or their jewelry or their collar and then go off to work—never seeing anyone besides themselves.

Until one day they fell. The fell hard over a “stupid, goddamn tree trunk root that some goddam someone should have cut or shaved or done something with –goddamn it.” They said a version of this over and over on their way to the hospital.

And because of that they had to be fed by a nurse. And they had to have their bandages changed. And they had to have a cast put on—several. And they had to have a lot of things happen because it had been a nasty fall and they broke both wrists and their right leg.