Mama never talked about father. She said the town-folk would never understand. She said shadows flickered in their souls.
But sometimes when the moon was full she would take us with her, holding a candle above the high summer grass and take us to a tree. She would settle me and my sister in blankets against the tree and press her fingers against the running lines of its’ bark.
There she would tell us stories of our father. There she talked to us of how our father had strong shoulders and eyes the colour of bronze. He was a man who would read books in the highest tree branches and played tricks on the wood cutters. How he would tell her jokes, play hide and seek in the meadow and pull his weight in the local mines. She never said he was a good or a bad man, simply a man who lived and loved her.
When we asked her where he went, she would say he could not stay with us. Then, she would smoothly move on to say how he would hold us in his arms as babes and whisper prayers in our ears.
Away from the tree our father did not exist. But near the tree our father was as alive and as real as the blanket we clutched against the cold. Before we left the tree, mama would sing a song, her sweet voice echoing through the trees.
Are you, are you345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNeY4TFIMuB
Coming to the tree345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTye08wDYQe
Where dead man called out345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6eMg7CsvmS
For his love to flee345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpzsebQdZOT
Strange things did happen here345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzovdhcl7Zu
No stranger would it be345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNGjt4Xcm3i
If we met at midnight345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbh0XiDhitp
In the hanging tree
I never thought more of it than a pretty song, a tradition. Years passed. We worked hard. I never saw a relative, I was told they had died of a sickness before we were born. My mother talked less and less about our father. The full moon visits stopped. When I had time, I would clamber up the tree and sit in its branches, imagining myself like my father.
On my sixteenth birthday my mama took me to see the tree, her candle flickering in the dark once again. As she walked, she sang;
“Are you, are you345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaZVaf2jqSa
Coming to the tree345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡliNFzEzFxV
Where dead man called out345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgmGBqE12Wy
For his love to flee345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡifFvfT7o0R
Strange things did happen here345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ83ku5z7BHe
No stranger would it be345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTC19EiDhY7
If we met at midnight345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg3hLyOtjvg
In the hanging tree”
There in the bosom of the tree mama eyed me quietly until she lifted her head and sang more words, words I had never heard before.
“Are you, are you345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZCOEaS1DWg
Coming to the tree345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSJoXrC2Pj2
They strung up a man345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHOWesocosV
They say who murdered three345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSj3gQ4tSu6
Strange things did happen here345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuOvtkZaTp6
No stranger would it be345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEp9Z3fSx2m
If we met at midnight345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMmqbbuBSCQ
In the hanging tree.”
There she explained how father died, strung up for murdering three men. There she admitted the three men had been her uncle and his two sons. Her family had died when she was little, leaving her with relatives. It was not a happy home. She was belittled, played with, beaten. My father had gone to see her and found a scene he had not bargained for. She had not bargained on his anger, as fierce and deadly as a housefire. My father was found guilty and hanged. He had not argued or pleaded or justified. He had kissed her and left for the hanging tree.
I looked up at the tree, our tree, my tree. At my father’s legacy.
“Mama,” I had said at last, “what does the song mean?”
She did not answer my question, only silent tears. She told me she had tried to stop them, she had tried to explain. But no one listened. He only asked for two things from her. He had asked her not to come to the hanging tree when they took him away, but to visit him after he was gone.
And so, she had.
We returned home and never talked of it.
My sister was married, then I was. To a woman who sang our children to sleep and laughed at my jokes. She followed me when I climbed trees, and produced me a son I never knew I would love so dearly.
One night as I was feeding our chickens I heard my mother’s voice ring through the village, her candle flame dancing far away in the breeze.
“Are you, are you345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3tA59l4fZ4
Coming to the tree345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6SV8jboLQE
Wear a necklace of hope345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxPR8oDiv4Q
Side by side with me345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDQ0mAIL6sZ
Strange things did happen here345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSMSkxoqYbu
No stranger would it be345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJFnm1H1QG3
If we met at midnight345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9z8mAsolTw
In the hanging tree.”
Before I knew I was moving I was sprinting for the tree, scattering chickenfeed and ruffled chickens as I went. No mama. No mama.
When I made it to the tree the wind whistled and whispered the song to me, as eerie as the flickering candle lying on its’ side. The silence screamed in my ears, leaving nothing but the gentle creak of a hangman’s noose. There my mama danced, her arms limp and still. Her face was peaceful, as though she had awaited this for many a year.
And still the wind murmured the song, beckoning me to sing along.
“Are you, are you345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡABQja0rr7g
Coming to the tree345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7lnCqn5dkM
Where they strung up a man345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjBYHA9akaB
They say who murdered three345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwF9ITKhBil
Strange things did happen here345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ86P9kwtny2
No stranger would it be345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9YOtHVewKH
If we met at midnight345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQc3HZ7Qsqg
In the hanging tree.”
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd2Ji1inWSa
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTzTQ5FuLqV
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHPgtYJAKKo
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZJ4cp0L8qB
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9IEwLZPjJq
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAgPD7QFWTz
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPMKOrZa9AQ
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNV5ldhJ4pS
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqp6xr6QLMP
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ92msq87vHi
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmQoz6W4xDf
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWNyUKC3SCa
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkuTh4Kxv8Q
345Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIfUalpBeZC
