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 you322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt8lucaU96j
Coming to the tree322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcolG8ELBc1
Where dead man called out322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhjySlIpwkD
For his love to flee322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3odjX8qA9l
Strange things did happen here322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZGMSkCrmjv
No stranger would it be322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKynUj9RTHV
If we met at midnight322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr6UWIpb788
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 you322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXbqYM3hXTw
Coming to the tree322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkJCQnaW3RY
Where dead man called out322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4MgAN2spQK
For his love to flee322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv4PyXTNhkK
Strange things did happen here322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ04fFWERzFr
No stranger would it be322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNSkZ1qxtmN
If we met at midnight322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcFxUzDans0
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 you322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZlISzXaoye
Coming to the tree322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKnKRZmJtOU
They strung up a man322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmjKQOzXlyk
They say who murdered three322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5FAWNRUeSk
Strange things did happen here322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3M36DXlAWQ
No stranger would it be322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqaBAVNFtux
If we met at midnight322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3lJkIBIrCb
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 you322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcYOsAigZZi
Coming to the tree322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpFv2Sl7tVI
Wear a necklace of hope322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQJUnwHezX4
Side by side with me322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6AVapO3U6O
Strange things did happen here322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkaKxtFCg9o
No stranger would it be322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSAxXXrvq90
If we met at midnight322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzR300snwwz
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 you322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWw5Y0TmbMF
Coming to the tree322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD2Qw4AQhzW
Where they strung up a man322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXu20Q9apd6
They say who murdered three322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9I1CFPnPa8
Strange things did happen here322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPba7iMLEcm
No stranger would it be322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6A7CzveGW0
If we met at midnight322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRnlpDwNdsN
In the hanging tree.”
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmw5mLF1VZB
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoJgSI1snaK
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLEmxR2DIjn
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvWEmHkM49Z
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbl55n6jT6B
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2MThMZMMkA
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhR0OHnq4Pp
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM2DxUphcB0
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJp9GGjkFyQ
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2E93fUFA5I
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPUociS0qbB
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡymYQMRRqHQ
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgi2Fj9Oemw
322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡezmDD5G0Ex
