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 you367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuNfi5l3xFT
Coming to the tree367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8qB6M5NndP
Where dead man called out367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo8euCkOYar
For his love to flee367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNCC859kVZQ
Strange things did happen here367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoh5sdfGYvb
No stranger would it be367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzO5dXq5ufR
If we met at midnight367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAPi5TdFFiR
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 you367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ94pwitJa3f
Coming to the tree367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ17V3G6eCgr
Where dead man called out367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj0iPBzpnjI
For his love to flee367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW2jRLGBJDf
Strange things did happen here367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1M34BWgNiC
No stranger would it be367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgMyOzLK46G
If we met at midnight367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5ZwR6l8p5g
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 you367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD1UkFiJl0l
Coming to the tree367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzuQvTQnxa2
They strung up a man367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBh9jrfKAgG
They say who murdered three367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwP0uIr5jWe
Strange things did happen here367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNvZducTBDQ
No stranger would it be367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGoHLhigmrB
If we met at midnight367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡODT8fL6k6L
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 you367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq3DIZT0fNP
Coming to the tree367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT46nb8huFQ
Wear a necklace of hope367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTGWzV5f8rX
Side by side with me367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ7JdAFtmGu
Strange things did happen here367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLVsnxSyM6k
No stranger would it be367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡviRKAn7bBf
If we met at midnight367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxwGMf35rid
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 you367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrzhuvSahH2
Coming to the tree367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZI2uVauiAj
Where they strung up a man367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ17CmEmtkHo
They say who murdered three367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMDwderCGak
Strange things did happen here367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCh2s7Hw5W9
No stranger would it be367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIpMqwEzbWr
If we met at midnight367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW5kHLF2noE
In the hanging tree.”
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwbQp5HAYr9
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjCqtD2BnMY
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡshr3BB5Qo4
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9UdRSRURUR
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡarjjp5ZjNk
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVJiC8yB650
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9sxpARE4Gw
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡThP5nQSjxu
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367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg2uaNSBlaF
367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE1yQzLiZAI
