It was like a gust of wind, Not a gale force, But a small gust, The weight lifted from my shoulders, A sense of peace settling over me, I was getting there. I open my eyes, To a bright meadow, With wild flowers, Buzzing bees, Bright soft sun shine, My skin gently warms, A small pulls my lips into a smile, I stand proud with arms out either side of me, The pain, The trauma, The self loathing, Is still there but, I am getting there. It comes as revelation, Freedom, I am getting there.