Have you seen the little cracks; does it worry you that it’s not the same anymore?

Is the coloring a little off? Has the shine diminished? Does it still have that tinkle? Has the surface begun to let go?

Tell me, do you now see all the flaws? Are the imperfections all that you think about?

Have you thought, how maybe the little cracks that appeared on the surface are a symbol that it is time?

That it’s a sign? If you glued it once, mended it another time, and still another crack appears in another corner, don’t you think it is overwhelmed and wants to disintegrate?

I know maybe it’s the special attachment to it that makes you believe you should still hold on to it.

That the history around it, behind it, is the reason you can’t just let it break so easily.

But like every glass object, some relationships are timebound and are not meant to last forever.

Friend, lover, girl, boy, man and woman, to all and to you. Can we talk about this space between us, haven’t you noticed that it is getting bigger? That it is there?

Often enough, when we see something breaking, we think by leaving it alone, taking special care, will mean that it will not eventually shatter.

But like all your favourite food, books, songs, it ends in the end, you can eat it again, read it again, play it again, but you know how it ends in the end.

And like all painful truths spoken, and bitter medicine drank, you know that what lingers in the end is for your own good health.

It is not easy to tear the skin off that was been molded with theirs for so long, it’s even harder to loosen your mind of the lovely memories that makes you want to stay.

We see what we want our eyes to see, we avoid what our minds speak about in the mists of our sleep, we pretend to live our dreams and turn away from our realities.

The friend, the lover, the girl, the boy, to woman, to man, for you, for me, for all. Have you seen the cracking on the surface, isn’t the space between getting bigger? It is there, I know you can see it too.

So that we can move pass it, so that we can move on, let go. Free ourselves from the struggle of holding on to the sharp end of the knife, for what we call history, loyalty and trust.

Like a glistening blue sky and a splendid sun, some years must come with a flood that washes all good things away, and just like how you come out to clean all the debris away, take a box and package all the wreckage of all things broken and throw them away.

Free yourself, free them.

Forgive, but never forget that we all played our parts in what was once a beautiful play.

By Fatou Mbenga