I had such zest and energy,
a new skin of sweet piquancy.
’Don’t take the pith!’ I pled and cried,
’Don’t pare me from ekklesia’s side!’
Uncommon people pulped me down,
sapped me – but, was then I found
out flowed a fresh vitality.
This juice was worth the press and squeeze.
Discarded flesh, all crushed and dripped
had composted unwanted pips.
These new shoots, they may be minute –
but promise, from the hulls, new fruit.