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 you275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNVz1Baeoic
Coming to the tree275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM6j3ROWUTO
Where dead man called out275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjO8X5l4njK
For his love to flee275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVXhelMhwkV
Strange things did happen here275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsHpL6gHOaw
No stranger would it be275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiYQQz8d8Hi
If we met at midnight275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPz6sxVmDgF
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 you275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs4rMQDlu80
Coming to the tree275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTXSk9okWyq
Where dead man called out275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡReFDygjsJK
For his love to flee275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9cnvcuDPOD
Strange things did happen here275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwvngHowuuY
No stranger would it be275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Vw5Xd4m2e
If we met at midnight275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡafh84PDbQR
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 you275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiCikFKPIkk
Coming to the tree275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Y8enE1qkM
They strung up a man275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTFExhXsVvH
They say who murdered three275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ82BXHfCKOW
Strange things did happen here275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX04Q52vO0F
No stranger would it be275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiKHZSVzniy
If we met at midnight275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHWvyA5uMK4
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 you275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ3r9L7fe1k
Coming to the tree275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZk57kK1nCr
Wear a necklace of hope275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqvznAi9fH9
Side by side with me275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUPhpkp5eaa
Strange things did happen here275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡustzvxyofz
No stranger would it be275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzv8QLmqg2n
If we met at midnight275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVaP64P0yBA
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 you275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPKdagvRaWl
Coming to the tree275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmqKlVQAbf0
Where they strung up a man275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ3Z5fYDniO
They say who murdered three275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZyoU7ojoEM
Strange things did happen here275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrR2lMFY3ga
No stranger would it be275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3BgEzyyt1S
If we met at midnight275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡakOzSVaRD1
In the hanging tree.”
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL5QRXXntwX
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPlZSrXUWXn
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsS5PLmzF8x
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRYoJqBvJ5H
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4p9zHvqKNH
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLkhHFcP2Ft
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPDi3h8qPhS
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeZGe3TM4gD
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmNQlROEUAl
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOD6RaMs5Y3
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXRif1tSL4A
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoL1WrokmEt
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXZnMvUjUH7
275Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfYnCllbz7h
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