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