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 you373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlc5Dswr48Y
Coming to the tree373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvWZ3AfQaXd
Where dead man called out373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqomSoAuYlS
For his love to flee373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCVpXORlFYV
Strange things did happen here373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlo3nuH7x85
No stranger would it be373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ49Foy5s9Od
If we met at midnight373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxO1mbO0x51
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 you373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡudafiGzWhi
Coming to the tree373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ44hJAjI34x
Where dead man called out373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxHuPcOVFeX
For his love to flee373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt3JELLBTJH
Strange things did happen here373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0PSoRaCaHf
No stranger would it be373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7lp2UAHR52
If we met at midnight373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDFuLL6IR7s
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 you373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1nDQMZd4Ab
Coming to the tree373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtR3orJJGVl
They strung up a man373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd8d8LWbQBw
They say who murdered three373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM9gWHhJ4V2
Strange things did happen here373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGtlMDkEZ99
No stranger would it be373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLCmxC6nO0G
If we met at midnight373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPUpuvNoRlw
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 you373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyAMEpxcvot
Coming to the tree373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwaIFJK3EuT
Wear a necklace of hope373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9TPV6qa6aL
Side by side with me373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJu0C7tclSZ
Strange things did happen here373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0GluRw22Pf
No stranger would it be373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDe3CuqzpBa
If we met at midnight373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc3ehlJPMu6
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 you373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVsWhkPDjFg
Coming to the tree373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkAo1YnVmyZ
Where they strung up a man373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGUuMtsr5Nk
They say who murdered three373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡELWEHr00jf
Strange things did happen here373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaB2WHYrUqX
No stranger would it be373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJE2In2fjsK
If we met at midnight373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrj9vg5DTC1
In the hanging tree.”
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1jJyL3TI4U
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk28v7iNKfX
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaIFdtE9tqH
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEPGhOWMe3F
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRNYFmRfbc9
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9cegJBQplz
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYXbTCxWptn
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUeAu8DNSjZ
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDDOgLMBmmb
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZjD78L1CmK
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5D53z6dwXo
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhS6Mu8e6Mc
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7lin2M01i8
373Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡloHxMLVBkG
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