I want to believe in time travel.

I want to trust in all its glory, bask in all of its benefits.

To never once more feel the fatal finality of irreversible action,

to always have another option.

 

I long to step back to 1948

to see the South African apartheid

for what it really is –

detestable, atrocious xenophobia.

 

Maybe then will I see these two streets, filled with two peoples

side by side, differences exposed.

Perhaps then will I appreciate

time travel back 65 years.

 

Yet, I want to believe in time travel to yesterday afternoon

little words that make or break the events that transpire today.

Fix a phrase here, remove a phrase there

to perfectly smooth out the ragged edges of fate.

 

But the sunlight doesn’t slant that way

following an upwards angle

through the blinds

on a radiant day.

 

Each deed done

keeps Fate in business and

gives Cupid a way to pass his time.

Life is a choose-your-own-adventure book authored by you.

 

So when I say I want to believe in time travel,

I mean I want to believe in optimism

on the days where I can’t accept the irrevocability

of my own decisions.

 

First line inspired by “Ancient Mars” by The Zolas