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 you287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEBIjLEhAP0
Coming to the tree287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡChtrhhQBYZ
Where dead man called out287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKs4HlhPUEy
For his love to flee287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFnbChf6uRx
Strange things did happen here287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlVcsxIZVkW
No stranger would it be287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEPIpZU4hly
If we met at midnight287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBvr9sATRZ9
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 you287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfCti3RdNYm
Coming to the tree287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuLR0FKUUm8
Where dead man called out287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbr487v5UW7
For his love to flee287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1z8JoqCcbX
Strange things did happen here287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUJZ1wXa54N
No stranger would it be287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkY2vbiqpag
If we met at midnight287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYP7ugBydIh
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 you287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCa99sN9Mn0
Coming to the tree287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv5WpQrU7te
They strung up a man287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvovYVvEN8z
They say who murdered three287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtoSGZXHubv
Strange things did happen here287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡORcxklsLbQ
No stranger would it be287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI4tSLGsGw7
If we met at midnight287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡReha2isUeL
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 you287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡySvFfdHpu6
Coming to the tree287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3yinunqkGl
Wear a necklace of hope287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT9iLNPEikP
Side by side with me287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqMZRT1VuBk
Strange things did happen here287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQGXDYxgy03
No stranger would it be287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrcjAUZKcVx
If we met at midnight287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj6p7SX2pZn
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 you287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmhDeYWd7Tp
Coming to the tree287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2jfuQL2VSZ
Where they strung up a man287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaH67kf90Tl
They say who murdered three287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8phHTa4Jmq
Strange things did happen here287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsCPL4CS9mA
No stranger would it be287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoyi0xEB4de
If we met at midnight287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0UJOlbILBC
In the hanging tree.”
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh5tlJeBKDp
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ62NxnStrVC
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjksZiNaYIf
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5AymMogIKq
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAjE8AxyYbe
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtm6WG6AgFp
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ56RTNFmPLh
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWBVgUtYQ1k
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJqWjLvSSEm
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZVZGxlNZDT
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMbW0EVCwBh
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTUtdPjRBt7
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOAM2uf1rmb
287Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWccERAuVwa
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