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 you512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaT9U1yZ8P0
Coming to the tree512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSTWOWvmGqH
Where dead man called out512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrehwORRJQl
For his love to flee512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW4MJAplYCd
Strange things did happen here512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpGmNzQe250
No stranger would it be512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd1gHwqwdUH
If we met at midnight512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiddn0BFMWe
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 you512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCVj7JBhpxZ
Coming to the tree512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeJquoHJudS
Where dead man called out512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTOR4Dge5yV
For his love to flee512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8lKZ66fDvY
Strange things did happen here512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvxs9cOCWQp
No stranger would it be512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDpvPo9pabY
If we met at midnight512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSU9QRhE6hd
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 you512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6a56RndLz7
Coming to the tree512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxe9TqpdvMj
They strung up a man512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPB5eAGVLod
They say who murdered three512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwrslYsU8dM
Strange things did happen here512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrWqi0DWBUd
No stranger would it be512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtQNr070msy
If we met at midnight512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7e3wCoggvT
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 you512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX4O6ufl9dg
Coming to the tree512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBDQan4cm2h
Wear a necklace of hope512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnvMlHdG3EL
Side by side with me512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfcKgcaIua0
Strange things did happen here512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzm7wMK8GVh
No stranger would it be512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJTFtJC0cUJ
If we met at midnight512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo3s36V4cCm
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 you512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBJhGnVejQU
Coming to the tree512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUTOxK0bkmJ
Where they strung up a man512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9DGA53b7t6
They say who murdered three512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkHy4LUBua8
Strange things did happen here512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkEWMQFMwPV
No stranger would it be512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnIUgnNWey0
If we met at midnight512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ22UEoHoGGB
In the hanging tree.”
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcU6iFOjMFY
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeSEnZeJjV2
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG75kdU0Ho1
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6sUkF7gLqU
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO0azwtP5ix
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIQ0f4Eilj2
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ32ud0xbIvp
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJw9LscpWfJ
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGnABc5nqSQ
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJnLQjyLLcP
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrHwqfzJyqW
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNmkVjmJZ3M
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbae8e2NIoH
512Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡStWYuByqKg
and then Add to home screen.