Sometimes

I forget to finish a thought

Sometimes

Someone else decides to do it for me

Which is something

I am sometimes

Grateful for

Unless it is done

In a rude and mansplaining way

Sometimes

I stop mid sentence

Sometimes

My brain decides to remember

That the language I speak

Is not my own

And every word

Starts sounding funny

and unfamiliar

Sometimes

I become afraid

When I realise that I forgot the names

Of the streets

In my home town

Sometimes

I panic

How will I come back

How will I find myself

In the labyrinth of memory

I wasn’t planning

To write about immigration

The initial plan was to write that

Sometimes

I send you unfinished texts

Trusting

That you know the end

I struggle to articulate

An alternative ending:

Sometimes

I wish I could call myself

A poet, an activist, a matriarch

Whatever that means

A leader

Without blushing

Or thinking myself a fraud

Or toning it down

I wish I could own the thoughts in my head

Say them out loud

Finish my sentences

With a loud

Listen to me