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 you230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBGafEiYPWW
Coming to the tree230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkGr0YkblFU
Where dead man called out230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVaEP1URoBc
For his love to flee230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjDPZfcVuu9
Strange things did happen here230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwApxJ2skfq
No stranger would it be230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6EnIMssXgT
If we met at midnight230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYNNjW6mK0T
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 you230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZPhF5QcANS
Coming to the tree230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJYU3jzuRKl
Where dead man called out230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQYgg5EZPU3
For his love to flee230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrfvH3l4QmU
Strange things did happen here230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLxJLM2gc7m
No stranger would it be230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ32vC6h1Rcc
If we met at midnight230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlFy7iMq5Pv
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 you230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQJ0F6ccaO5
Coming to the tree230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvsklgymBhp
They strung up a man230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQLS0KEZmKB
They say who murdered three230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0rxioHB3qH
Strange things did happen here230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡToapv4NNyY
No stranger would it be230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2dMUiR9Dmw
If we met at midnight230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2cBBxdsuOp
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 you230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Oxmdtkz22
Coming to the tree230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPkg6mz1Hpi
Wear a necklace of hope230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ZNYTGL1UL
Side by side with me230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFRBqYBtWZ0
Strange things did happen here230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7PO5y0yZRU
No stranger would it be230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZqydJYvL20
If we met at midnight230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCT0zAAURg3
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 you230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHYKnnqJPLZ
Coming to the tree230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRtZDLPZgc9
Where they strung up a man230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyxeREDrTmE
They say who murdered three230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡasJm0UQvcb
Strange things did happen here230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYamI4UOJgd
No stranger would it be230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbbAGPSRawG
If we met at midnight230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpeTsMWjFpH
In the hanging tree.”
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqtXvD3uRw1
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFeujlW88Sy
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLp8qDm1yyu
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwn6fUOM09C
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsMWL5v1Dmw
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw1FzvI5s9o
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV4qcEdZ48n
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHzIi8lnbFP
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE94Stb1ICi
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdyT8qMaeja
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBuGg2aIEIo
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡASDCt8zi9d
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ96EHaBPL8U
230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa6TMFYa6Ub
