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 you324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs3rorR6Fiq
Coming to the tree324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy4vpzRcbsM
Where dead man called out324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxEmQrPWBNS
For his love to flee324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1UlApEt5B7
Strange things did happen here324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBjSO9yFjue
No stranger would it be324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡME69u1dvRq
If we met at midnight324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBSJT5qIU1H
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 you324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4oS5SN8FyP
Coming to the tree324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1MQLXkmDoW
Where dead man called out324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEyxmrNIH1x
For his love to flee324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1YV03phr3T
Strange things did happen here324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFRpmTYIVqZ
No stranger would it be324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgv5ii9CEEp
If we met at midnight324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6JjteXLQ5O
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 you324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy5Tp5wlClu
Coming to the tree324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQmKGrU1xIT
They strung up a man324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCQiMK42llb
They say who murdered three324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo23bhcCcGz
Strange things did happen here324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzUXyD2qkwc
No stranger would it be324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOiDYG8P5U3
If we met at midnight324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqJWQM6qBWI
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 you324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpMjTOkovz8
Coming to the tree324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEpULiZyJfa
Wear a necklace of hope324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNabskVBzbQ
Side by side with me324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ2Uuh5YpqF
Strange things did happen here324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLagYlTR7HN
No stranger would it be324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFnPYj846ch
If we met at midnight324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGv1o0yY6y1
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 you324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxpEfcvxnkG
Coming to the tree324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ988tcG1Bqw
Where they strung up a man324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡve2cFx1uCs
They say who murdered three324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡefQd61monw
Strange things did happen here324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2hwWju33px
No stranger would it be324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnbhauJiGt6
If we met at midnight324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjvd6agj2mB
In the hanging tree.”
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE04Lci1xVi
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiC9U7Xq6CX
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVKAdZcd6Hp
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡguxntOCvFH
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNAbpKmHS0M
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTNKZetcCbO
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP8QkGbgykl
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQKJRdhcIKU
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡea8VJ10uZV
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKHHwkQxnC8
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI00oAUfUib
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm7ck8iXkUE
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ577Ci7qP7u
324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ZQjjkVdvb
