Fruit shoots

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.