Ever Ripening Me


Can you tell me, please,

where does the human heart go

when the mind wanders?


And what do the eyes look upon

when the world becomes a beggar’s stage

of flashing desire and chaos?


I’ve spent my life as a blind man

with hands over eyes and not on my heart;

too busy hiding from feelings,


instead of holding onto the rhythm

nestled within my hands like a new born,

to cradle its bold tenderness


till I lose track of time

and lose sight of this fickle world

and all the propaganda


that tries to replace this

sweet romance. Today I placed an open hand

on my heart, as a cheek upon cheek,


and made dancers of us.

Together, we can turn this world into a paradise

Together, we can turn this life into joy.


And yes, there will be times


When I will grow a marvelous belly

Full and round with a feast of over abundance

And yet my heart will still teach me acceptance.


Or times when I grow a long straggly beard

Of bushy, curly brown and grey strands of rebellion

Manifesting self-acceptance to the many strange stares.


or there will be months on end

When I wear the same pajamas everyday

And watch the neighbors,


as they grow disturbed in

doubt as to whether I wash them clean

or let daily dirt gather on its cloth.


To this I grow untouched

as mockery and judgment consumes them

I will grow bright bold wings


falling away from this conditioning

that society uses to keep me under control;

coming unglued I will learn to fly.


Or even if I


Fall down, crashing into obsessions

I wait for love to pull me out of each wreck,

or leave me there until I search for her.


And when we meet each other

oh how I will be like a young school kid

making secret hiding places


for the shame and guilt

of all of my many mischievous ways

as Love uncovers them one by one.


And when I awaken from each place


where this heart has tucked me in,

as we dance through these beautiful imperfections,

with clarity I begin to see


Everything in its perfection.

Slowly, I am starting to uncover these eyes.

Slowly, I am letting go of each sour fruit.


Oh humble heart of mine

I feel the sweetness of what remains

In the bushel of want, unpicked.


Oh humble heart of mine

I am learning to hold your rhythm–

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump,


I am learning to feel,


the pulse of your ancient roots,

as they reach up through my core

ever ripening me.



  • Jeffrey Vionito


Picture by: Marina Cano

2 thoughts on “Ever Ripening Me

  1. So much honesty in this….the struggle of the heart vs. the outside world. We need to be true to ourselves and see the beauty of the simplest things around us. Take this joy and love and let it fill our hearts.
    Beautiful piece!!

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