TheResvrrectionist

Witch-crafted: unique altar pieces & ritual tools

Carmel, New York

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Announcement    Venture in, star filled souls and behold an imaginarium of ghosts, of bones, of breathtaking beauty:
Candles to open ways, soaps to speak to gods, keys to otherworlds. Potions, charms, wisdom, and words.

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Last updated on May 12, 2019

Venture in, star filled souls and behold an imaginarium of ghosts, of bones, of breathtaking beauty:
Candles to open ways, soaps to speak to gods, keys to otherworlds. Potions, charms, wisdom, and words.

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Lisa

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Lisa

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About TheResvrrectionist

Sales 446
On Etsy since 2017

There are no gilded cages for girls with grandmothers like Baba Yaga. She is smoke, midnight, dragonsblood and singing the bones.

"What about the cost, when we give pieces of ourselves to magick? "

She wore black.
Her lipstick was green, like deep ocean water.
In her blood was old magick.
Maybe this magick is the oldest magick of all.
She was a legacy of rich, dark, power; graveyard deep.

Dark Goddess magick even the wise are foolish enough to fear, the shudder we direct to that woman who carries the wolf in her heart rather than a pink flower of "love" and "light".
With this ancestry a sacred mystery inside her, unknowing, this witch went to work for the dead.
She saw the darkness in the heart of man.
She saw the stories of the dead as she prepared them for the earth, saw and heard truths so dark it would break the fibers of her heart.
Children small and broken.
The homeless and forgotten.
The murdered.
She saw ghost lights among the instruments. Her soul filling with the lives, and memories of her vulnerable charges.
She saw and heard the Demons too, the Darkness, trying to catch hold.
So she took the broken fibers of her heart, and with all the strength in her she built a bridge to heaven for those who needed it.

She took the young ones home with her, away from the cold concrete and steel shadows into the haven of her kitchen, making lollipops and playing games.
Broken children became whole and found a mother in her. Slowly they let go of this world, to be reborn into better lives.
She was a haven for those whose stories must be told, whose last thought was invisible to the world. A homeless man who had to share the love of his dog with someone before he could let go. She became a vessel, a place the voiceless could be heard at last.

Demons knocked. Nightmares, monsters, trying to ride her power, take her heart. Steal her from her gift. Her gift that was holding them down. Her gift that destroyed them.
She fought them with that power from her grandmothers, she fought them tooth and claw.
It cost her, this work.
But she did it.
Voice of the Forgotten.
Slayer of Demons.
Haven for the Small and Vulnerable.
Bridge to Heaven.
For all the witches who give up pieces of themselves... may the healers be healed.

Shop members

  • Lisa

    Owner, Witch-crafting Creatrix

    Some little girls grow up among all things nice, gilded by the sweet cages of their mother's arms. Other girls grow up with Grandmothers like Baba Yaga. Blessed and cursed with a Seeing... for when you can see the Shadows... the Shadows look back.

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