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.