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 you300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡufJrAGF1al
Coming to the tree300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTGOTGk1Tra
Where dead man called out300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMaByfuFuj7
For his love to flee300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKcOs66Elr2
Strange things did happen here300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL4sP1jkyAD
No stranger would it be300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeHu6vsrAaW
If we met at midnight300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbTFCtAt9Sn
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 you300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnTlrGydPyp
Coming to the tree300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn90c4wpPu7
Where dead man called out300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOxSJnCWpU9
For his love to flee300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJUV7Ef8adv
Strange things did happen here300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDKbDUB5cBZ
No stranger would it be300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYzvhKJtFOe
If we met at midnight300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaQmEwBqgnb
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 you300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoC7ENGS6h1
Coming to the tree300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyGDX259JMZ
They strung up a man300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhlGkPLB9m7
They say who murdered three300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6YQeyA1RJB
Strange things did happen here300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGQs4GjzxMW
No stranger would it be300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5NTCtVUuch
If we met at midnight300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO6ZmQzPk0t
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 you300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNHjNCiedCd
Coming to the tree300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtDPdN3VMrb
Wear a necklace of hope300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡurj6CK1O7b
Side by side with me300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUsW3XxZ9aT
Strange things did happen here300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI50N7GvzqT
No stranger would it be300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY5j0xDNdxa
If we met at midnight300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU8LN1tSdrg
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 you300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxo8TYU2bPY
Coming to the tree300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWDpNDwLTMK
Where they strung up a man300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡejXPJsrfq4
They say who murdered three300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqFtSXEEC8N
Strange things did happen here300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm4OkrcHUtG
No stranger would it be300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn3LwhghaTu
If we met at midnight300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgxiqjLrj7Z
In the hanging tree.”
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDMt9VsXLIw
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡImhrkCMIyF
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGVG2QZsJPr
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6LKQQzmos7
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡotTSCSe5oW
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWLZGAichD7
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkLOUptPi1E
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0hmcQsqpBM
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvIf3Zno3Px
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡinOC9Q5WkS
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn8DFyxKiem
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRStT1ZcGbN
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡweKUKAHX6X
300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnpGZ4ER1yx
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