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 you258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwXm6NTOwVq
Coming to the tree258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuey9kjqyiE
Where dead man called out258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwnWgd50xM5
For his love to flee258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2XuDpbMPS5
Strange things did happen here258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ21s5b49QyJ
No stranger would it be258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkyA4el3cEy
If we met at midnight258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3vlWQyUgAP
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 you258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkmb418xzqb
Coming to the tree258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9RN9UsKUtn
Where dead man called out258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1bntAZBV6q
For his love to flee258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRicpQE1y9H
Strange things did happen here258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ494x4Ozukw
No stranger would it be258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxd3bRrQeWS
If we met at midnight258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9GWus5aq5y
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 you258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAHvpqczbsC
Coming to the tree258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaRL1LBm83a
They strung up a man258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7ErA9oMdiX
They say who murdered three258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAG16ZiZvXO
Strange things did happen here258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZV2p2CBCX9
No stranger would it be258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH7gfmooqKb
If we met at midnight258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdvajTNSozH
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 you258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGPKFf4NzRp
Coming to the tree258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUVt7gUal0I
Wear a necklace of hope258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3jti48MzRC
Side by side with me258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXA33d2FO82
Strange things did happen here258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡseuDZ6zeOB
No stranger would it be258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMOcAJSTgUt
If we met at midnight258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk2FZKs79aC
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 you258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQi24nXAyYD
Coming to the tree258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFrK2wEWkgU
Where they strung up a man258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5u7Ov4TYZV
They say who murdered three258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC9gN93pxX0
Strange things did happen here258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVXR6QPi7xa
No stranger would it be258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg30WDxk5QY
If we met at midnight258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlDYuuSRjYh
In the hanging tree.”
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRHP7QIbDNP
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ41YbijtXCz
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP5SPaPLvwp
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQuuUeaAJrA
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY7NCjxqkik
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpjFlX2M4mF
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvktrXxt7QZ
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfHozWDjpSE
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ53FQe6ZMF2
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAxeuwKEbAI
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA1gExc2DRI
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO4NBrXOXDM
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDPVfAvmNlJ
258Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfd54LNFW7l
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