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 you299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtc2EA7qKdS
Coming to the tree299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3nSyaY64Bu
Where dead man called out299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqGugyHK157
For his love to flee299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg3rCNX2dFs
Strange things did happen here299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3wGCGxmyq4
No stranger would it be299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHbCkMH7ur0
If we met at midnight299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUuNQZz2gRR
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 you299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1H202kUrZS
Coming to the tree299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVtcMCHUzp4
Where dead man called out299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4pNU5DnM06
For his love to flee299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaqDV2HOfbG
Strange things did happen here299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1FyeoOMVsW
No stranger would it be299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8QhSAxfOgr
If we met at midnight299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPfeOuv8gaF
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 you299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsNrP8TEcxN
Coming to the tree299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Ot1V39H7K
They strung up a man299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNqky9P8JxX
They say who murdered three299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4TOF4m8btY
Strange things did happen here299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZUJworRnU8
No stranger would it be299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw9US1g7IvM
If we met at midnight299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡauPObipkc9
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 you299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGjNMS6RpHo
Coming to the tree299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡigKAppB8Ns
Wear a necklace of hope299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbCnSe6iw0L
Side by side with me299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUbxQGCiImm
Strange things did happen here299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdFL3CKxWDi
No stranger would it be299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOGeUEblJiI
If we met at midnight299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIAwoXP3Lqy
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 you299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmUoYd2S4Bs
Coming to the tree299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqyD13uJjKR
Where they strung up a man299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkxRJQT8moE
They say who murdered three299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjhI0MCDnwt
Strange things did happen here299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡux2RoyNcRM
No stranger would it be299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtH45771MH2
If we met at midnight299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw2xPhm5zTC
In the hanging tree.”
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCtHUKXG33d
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWDakkCGGDN
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4FlwysLcZL
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1mmiPm8xJJ
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaWSbTI3EjY
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTKGs26oa5O
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNUiC0Snpy8
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCDf0QC4iSD
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGtEwEOLdau
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXhbnUQ8CHi
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt6p9V4Aayy
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmHCBvfkfdT
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpqahtExbgd
299Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlWpqxBE2cS
