To The Woman Who Survived

July 16, 2026

Beloved,

I know there are days when the ghosts return.

Days when memory arrives uninvited,
dragging shadows behind it.

Days when your body remembers
what your mind had long since tucked away
inside Sacred vaults of survival.

And on those days,
I hope you remember this:
You were never the violence.

Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.

What happened to you
passed through your life like a storm,
but it did not become your Soul.

There are those who would measure you
by what was taken.

I measure you
by what remained.

And what remained
was extraordinary.

Is extraordinary.

You remained.

The heart still beating.
The lungs still drawing breath.
The Spirit still refusing to surrender its song.

You do not need to earn your healing.
You do not need to justify your grief.
You do not need to explain why some wounds ache louder than others.

You are allowed to be tender.
You are allowed to be angry.
You are allowed to be both in the same holy breath.

The world may call your scars damage.

I call them evidence.

Evidence that you walked through fire
and somehow carried the flame home.
Evidence that darkness met you
and failed to make you its own.
Evidence that even shattered things
can become Sacred.

So when the memories come,
when sorrow presses its hand against your chest,
when the old ache whispers its familiar lies,
place your hand over your heart.

Feel the rhythm beneath your palm.

Thump, thump
Thump, thump

That is not weakness.
That is not brokenness.
That is your life.

Still choosing itself.
Still choosing itself.
Still choosing itself.

Thump, thump
Thump, thump

And that,
dear Woman,
is a miracle.

You are a miracle.

Jaclyn Cherie

The Nephilim Rising
Girl God Books

All Rights Reserved.

My poem from the upcoming release, Spells for Survivors: Returning to the Holy Her

Pre-order at:

https://www.thegirlgod.com/spells_for_survivors.php

WAR CRY OF THE SURVIVOR

July 16, 2026

They told me to heal quietly.
To make my pain palatable.
To speak in soft tones and careful language.
To forgive before the wound had stopped bleeding.

To be gracious.
To be grateful.
To be anything but angry.

But anger was the first honest thing I had felt.
It arrived like a wildfire through dead timber.
Like a Goddess with blood on Her hands and justice in Her eyes.
Like a howl clawing its way from the deepest part of me.

You called me victim.
I became witness.
You called me broken.
I became weapon.
You called me ruined.
I became revelation.

What happened to me was real.
The terror was real.
The violation was real.
The grief was real.

And so is my rage.

My rage is not a flaw.
It is the part of me that knows I deserved better.

The part that refused to die.
The part that stood guard over the ashes and
whispered:

“No more.”

No more silence.
No more shrinking.
No more carrying shame that was never mine.

I return every ounce of it.
Every lie.
Every burden.
Every poisoned seed.

Take it back.
It belongs to you.

I am done carrying the weight of another’s violence.
I am done apologizing for surviving.
I am done making myself smaller so others can remain comfortable.

I am not what was done to me.

I am what survived.
I am the fire that remained.
The blade that did not break.

The voice that rose from the wreckage.

And when I speak now,

it is not with trembling.

It is with thunder.

Jaclyn Cherie

The Nephilim Rising
Girl God Books

All Rights Reserved.

My second poem from the upcoming release, Spells for Survivors: Returning to the Holy Her

Pre-order at:

https://www.thegirlgod.com/spells_for_survivors.php

Do Not Give Them Your Fear

July 16, 2026

I have a million other things to be doing right now.

Yet Spirit has reached into the quiet,
wrapped its unseen hand around my wrist,
and whispered…

Write, child.

Because someone is forgetting.

Someone is standing at the Crossroads,
convinced that fear is the only language left.

It is not.

So hear me.

Not as a Prophet.
Not as a Saint.
Not as someone untouched by darkness.

Hear me as one who has walked through it.

Who has swallowed ash and breathed fire.
Who has slept beside grief.
Who has learned that monsters are not always found in forests, dark corners or beneath the bed
sometimes they wear familiar faces,
sometimes they echo inside our own minds.

Hear me as one who knows that Shadow
is not the enemy.

Fear wants you to kneel.

Despair wants you to forget your own name.
Silence wants you to mistake survival
for surrender.

Do. Not.

Do not give them your fear.

Do not feed the machine with your Spirit.
Do not offer your terror as tribute.
Do not become the architect of your own cage.

Your fear is Sacred fire.

Guard it.
Transform it.
Temper it until it becomes resolve.

To every Witch who has ever hidden their Altar.
To every Soul whose existence has been treated as an inconvenience.
To every Seeker.
Every exile.
Every strange child who learned too early that the world does not always welcome those who refuse to fit neatly inside its smallest boxes.

I see you.
I have always seen you.

The road beneath your feet has never been easy.

It was never meant to be.

We descend because wisdom waits below.
We speak with ghosts because they remember what Empires forgot.

We carry bones, herbs, Cards, prayers, scars, and stories because every generation leaves breadcrumbs for the next.

We are not born from comfort.
We are born from remembering.

Remember who you are.

Remember those who stood before you when the fires burned hotter than they do today.

Remember those who whispered prayers beneath their breath when speaking aloud carried consequences.

Remember those who buried their books,
hid their symbols,
passed Sacred names from trembling lips to willing ears,
believing someone,
someday,
would continue the work.

You are that someone.
And so am I.

Darkness has always existed.

So have we.

The night has never belonged solely to those who wield power.

It belongs to the owl.
The wolf.
The Ancestors.
The dreamers.
The Witches who know that every seed first breaks open beneath the Earth before it ever reaches the light.

We are children of thresholds.
Liminal Spaces.
Students of endings, and beginnings.
Keepers of impossible hope. Not the fragile kind that pretends suffering isn’t real, but the fierce kind that looks directly into the Abyss and refuses to become it. We study it.

No one is coming to save us.

Perhaps that has always been our greatest strength.
Because we remember how to gather.

How to tend the Flame.
How to bind one another’s wounds.
How to laugh in the face of uncertainty.
How to sing while surrounded by ruins.

That is Magick.
That is Alchemy.
Not escaping the darkness.
But becoming so familiar with it
that it no longer tells you who you are.
You are united as One.

So let them have their fear.

Let them build kingdoms from it if they must.
We will build something older.
Something that cannot be legislated away.
Something that cannot be silenced.
Something rooted in memory,
in courage,
in Spirit,
and in the wild, untamable heart that still beats beneath every scar we carry.

Stand.
Breathe.
Remember.
Then walk forward.
Not because you are unafraid.
But because fear was never meant to be your Master.

Do not give them your fear.

Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever.

Remember who you are.

Lessons in Magick: When Giants Fall

November 4, 2025

Death does not occur one, singular time in our lives.

Sure. There is a death that is a finale, there is no coming back from.

None of us can escape that physical, biological ending.

Well, I mean, you know what I mean.

Reincarnation beliefs and such aside.

There are multiple tiny deaths we experience throughout life.

And, sadly, no, I am not referring to la petite mort.

Though I am a loud supporter that the more of THOSE you experience, the better your overall life will be.

I digress.

These tiny deaths I am referring to are not tiny at all; they are sometimes butterfly effects in our microcosm.

Other times, they are foundation cracking.

Making us reassess who we are and our values.

Then there are some minor annoyances.

Ah, one of the things in life besides death and taxes that can be guaranteed is change.

The world moves with or without you.

That’s a harsh reality, an ego death, we all must accept and go through.

You are either an active participant, or you are a passive bystander.

I prefer to be an active participant but sometimes we must, we must be bystanders.

If you are familiar with The Nap Bishop, Tricia Hersey, and her revolutionary work and book, Rest is Resistance then you might know what I am referring to.

Not only is rest an inherent right, but it is also an act of resistance.

An act of defiance in a hustle culture that judges you and defines you by how much you can produce, create, and freely give for “them” to take.

You have worth far beyond what you can give.

You have value far greater than you know.

Rest is a birthright.

“Those are nuanced statements! They’re privileged, too!”

Are they, though?

Make yourself extremely uncomfortable and ask, are they?

Read Tricia’s work and then circle back to me.

https://thenapministry.wordpress.com/

The last sense of normalcy, and I use the word loosely, that I experienced, along with many others, was in 2019.

I was at the height of my success. I was in the process of a book deal. I had everything I had ever wanted and dreamed right at my fingertips.

Then, 2020 hit and the world changed.

The world as we knew it had, was forever changed.

In my opinion, that was one of the larger butterfly effects in recent memory.

It altered all our lives whether we recognize the changes or not.

I have fought for nearly six years against nature, the Universe, and their Laws:

I have refused to die.

I have refused to allow certain parts of myself, my path, and my brand that no longer align with who I am and where I am at, go.

Resistance when embodied can seep into our everyday lives.

When we fight against a system, not a person but a system, dare I say an entity that wants everything from you, and we do not bend, flow, change quickly, then we will suffer a fate worse than metaphorical death –

Stagnancy.

Like a ghost, we become stuck in purgatory, unable to move on, but some parts of us know we must.

We remain in chrysalis instead of going through the process of metamorphosis to gain our wings.

We keep ourselves trapped, our world small, all for the sake of comfort.

The illusion of safety.

We refuse to perform one of the most essential forms of personal Alchemy.

In that, we are denying our birthright.

We are denying our power.

We are denying our Magick.

When we resist change, we resist death.

Both are natural parts of the cycle of life.

Both are natural parts of the cycle of our lives.

I experienced burnout and I am actively trying to heal that while finding temperance in my life.

I have found it a bit ironic that in my time away (years) from the more public facing aspects of my brand that the pendulum has swung back and folks are reading blogs again, and even vlogging.

My millennial heart is here for that comeback.

I believe we are better humans when we share our stories.

I didn’t know if I was going to return to this space, or in what capacity, but it is a part of me and my path.

I created this blog nearly 14 years ago as a space free of judgment and one of radical acceptance.

Though it was quiet for a bit while I went through my trial by fire for resisting change, I am grateful I kept the flame going, if only an ember.

As a Torchbearer, I can work with an ember. It means there is still life, still something to create with, still stories to be told.

I plan on doing book reviews and focusing on tackling some of the wild disinformation I see on platforms like TikTok. I am all for Witches sharing history and knowledge but not when it’s knowledge saying Belladonna is illegal.

Yes, a creator really said that ten toes down.

Like the name of my brand + business suggests, I am a Giant, and even Giants fall.

But we also rise.

It is in our rise that we find our greatest strengths.

I hope to reconnect with my audience in this space and on Facebook again.

I do hope you’re still out there.

If not, my fire will lead you home to the Crossroads as it once did.

Lux in Tenebris Lucet

LESSONS IN MAGICK: The Strength of Sisterhood

December 17, 2017

Fire 2

image source

“There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.”

Madeleine K. Albright

This month marks 3 years since I started the NR Facebook page, and 2 years since starting this blog and my Shop; to say it’s been a whirlwind would be an absolute understatement.

I started this venture with no goal in mind, no real intention either; I wanted to create a sanctuary for myself, a place that was my own where I could express my opinions and experiences how I saw fit.

At the time, I didn’t know what that looked like, I didn’t know how I was to navigate this new world I found myself in; a world I had created both by choice and circumstance.

It was hard.

It was devastatingly fucking hard.

Still is, most days.

I have no problem being challenged, or having opposing opinions voiced (others would debate this fact); I do have a problem being attacked though.

I have a problem with people who only read and see what THEY want to read and see, and cannot look at anything objectively; furthermore, they cannot admit when they are wrong.

So, instead of admitting they don’t know, or that they are, in fact, incorrect, they lash out.

Their weapon? Vitriol.

Even when I know the person spewing the words is just a troll who’s merely projecting their insecurities onto me, or simpler yet, they are just trying to get a reaction because it gets them off, it still hurts my feelings.

Most people don’t understand how truly sensitive I am—I feel everything, which is why I burn out so frequently.

This brand was birthed into creation by myself; it’s literally like my baby, and when my baby is attacked, it *feels* personal.

Often, I react as such: an angry, volatile, deadly mama bear.

I know and say all the time that my way is not the only way, that my views are not the only ones.

I don’t want followers, I don’t want a herd of people who think like me; I simply want to spark something inside the minds of other’s by showing them what it looks like to burn in the fire of your truth.

I lead by example.

I light myself on fire every day and show my flames and scars to the world.

Fire 1

image source

I didn’t realize that my flames would act as a calling card of sorts beckoning like-minded individuals to seek me out, and thus, the page grew rapidly.

I also didn’t realize that in showing my scars, pains, and brutal truths to the world, it granted others permission to do the same.

In the beginning I talked mostly about topics of the Occult, demonolatry and such.

As my journey began to change, as I began to change, so did the content, which I believe is genuinely authentic; the page should reflect what I am going through and who I am.

To my surprise my page base became predominantly Women.

Now THIS was unfamiliar territory for me.

Not only did I not have friends growing up because I was so painfully different, bullied at times, accepted at other’s, choosing to keep to myself most often—I didn’t get along with other girls.

I have always known who I was, and at an early age that is threatening to other girls who are still trying to figure themselves out; it’s threatening to some Women even now as an adult.

In a world full of societal dictations about who and what we are all supposed to be, knowing who you are and living that truth are rebellious acts.

I found my inbox filled with messages from Women thanking me for sharing my experiences and telling me theirs; like soldiers comparing war stories, we shared pain, trauma, oppression, abuse, awakenings, metaphorical death and finally, rejoiced in our rebirth.

It was in these intimate moments that a silent Sisterhood was formed and has been forming ever since.

In my blog, The Rise of the Rebellious Woman I credit the Dark Goddesses with the considerable number of Women joining the Revolution, reclaiming their power, truth, and stepping onto the Left-Hand Path to take back individual sovereignty stolen from them and the Women who stood here in times past.

What I failed to see then is that the Dark Goddess works through Women like myself—Torchbearers who in these times of darkness are lighting the world on fire with their words of wisdom, and war cries for rebellion.

Fire 3

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I stand arm in arm with my Sisters as we begin to understand and accept that we are so much more similar than we are different.

And through sharing our stories we can heal each other, which in turn heals the wounds of the Divine Feminine; for She can only be healed when Women come to know that each other is an ally, not enemy.

When you tear down your Sister, you tear down yourself.

Thank you to all the Women who have reached out to me and continue to do so; in your words I find so much strength, motivation and inspiration.

Thank you for supporting me, for walking this journey with me, for having my back when the world gets me down.

Most importantly, thank you for teaching me the Sacred, Ancient power of Sisterhood.

Together we can conquer Empires.

Together we will dismantle the Patriarchy.

TORCHBEARERS: It’s Time to Shine Your Light

January 16, 2017

diggie

Image: Diggie Vitt Photography

“Life is filled with unanswered questions, but it is the courage to seek those answers that continues to give meaning to life. You can spend your life wallowing in despair, wondering why you were the one who was led towards the road strewn with pain, or you can be grateful that you are strong enough to survive it.”

J.D Stroube

I think it is safe to say that last year was a year of change, death and destruction (metaphorically and literally) for just about everyone; I know it most certainly was for myself. With these emotions and experiences there comes Shadow work, an inevitable part of our journey; facing the darker nature and emotions of/within ourselves; having to own up to our mistakes, our pain, our “shit” and still look ourselves in the mirror afterwards.

Not an easy task on top of an already complex path.

My darkness, traumas, and inability to conform are what led me to the Left Hand Path, and Magick in general, as well as having a calling deep in my Soul. I thrived in the darkness, and darker shades of gray; I loved to roam in the Shadows of myself, the otherworld and the collective unconscious trying to figure out why the dark appealed to me so much.

I immersed myself in the energy and embrace of the Dark Feminine, and swayed my hips with the Charge of the Dark Goddess; I embraced the wrath of Kali by allowing my own rage to run free, and I walked with Hekate in the Underworld staring death in the face.

I challenged fate, the Gods, and went against everything that was expected of me.

I rebelled, I lashed out, I embraced my wild nature; I raged, I screamed, I cried, and apologized not once.

But, all good things must come to an end.

After going through numerous Dark Nights of the Soul and dredging through Shadow work for over 2 years, observing and absorbing other people’s darkness and embracing my own, I can admit that I have stayed in the dark too long and now, am being forced to become my own light and shine brighter than before.

You see, I let the darkness seduce me; I got lost deep in the Abyss and have been sitting here, stuck, for weeks now—months even, trying to find a way out.

I try to remain positive and keep it all in perspective but lately it has been next to impossible to do; the recent Mercury Retrograde was the hardest one that I can remember. I remain grateful always, and make the choice every day to turn my heart towards the sky but sometimes, it’s just fucking hard to do.

During a tear-filled phone call, earlier today with one of my Sister Witches she posed a question that was so profound it has led me to write this post.

She said, “How do you create and hold space for such deep sadness and despair while still living your day to day life?” Referring the collective and personal pain and sadness that she is feeling currently.

As those words left her mouth the epiphany hit me like a ton of bricks:

“The only way out is through.” -Robert Frost

Frost’s poems have entered my mind time and time again reminding me of the lesson I am to learn or the direction I must follow. Once again, his words sing out to me.

Our society has demonized emotions so much that the majority are completely numb to the ideas of compassion, empathy and, well, love.

How can the Healers of this world cope with such odds? How can the rebels who are here to awaken the masses make them feel something, anything?

How are we, the Healers, supposed to deal with the heavy weight of sadness and fear that is being felt but also hidden?

The first step, we shine some light in the dusty corners of their Soul’s.

We all have aspects of ourselves that are like a junk drawer (not our Shadow but something more human). It’s a drawer we all have in our homes that we prefer a stranger not stumble upon and go through; finding out how sloppy we can be.

Our Soul has that same kind of drawer.

Well, it’s spring cleaning time.

This world is in desperate need of awakened and enlightened people, and I don’t mean those fake gurus who want followers; I mean the real deal who wish to have you walk your path of independence rather than follow the herd—even if that means you walk a path different from their own.

I know, I know, people on the page have tried to defend the herd as being smart; in nature, it is a defense mechanism to keep them safe from predators, a way to keep them warm, and a way to have community.

Sheep and other herd animals don’t have egos though; the Alpha males may battle it out every once in a while, but the hierarchy is set in place, and animals don’t have the awareness to question it.

Humans however, we do. And, that is why following the herd has never fared well for humans.

When we follow the herd, we lose the individuality that makes us all so unique; we lose the ability to form our own opinions because they are fed to us. It is hard to walk alone, it is hard to break free from everything you have ever known but what is the alternative? Follow blindly?

While I feel the Shadow of last year still hanging over us, the fear of the unknown, and the panic because of the uncertainty of our future, I have hope.

Some people call me naïve to keep hope alive and maybe I am; fear is no better than naivety though, but worse.

I walk in to 2017 shedding the darkness and thick skin that 2016 gave to me and step into the fire of revolution and truth.

Most importantly, I step into the fire of hope.

Blessed are the Witches, Wild Mystics, Shamans, Healers, Awakened, Enlightened and Spiritual folks of this planet; it is our torches that will guide us through the darkness.

Blessed are the light-bringers and torchbearers;

Now go light the world on fire.