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 you256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPGuwIDZhR3
Coming to the tree256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaUj1erMdpG
Where dead man called out256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTRIC9lcU8H
For his love to flee256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZuG9GpGuGx
Strange things did happen here256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrnpdnIBaxE
No stranger would it be256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL3ivWeOjJx
If we met at midnight256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfAAtS361t8
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 you256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv4fEKPYA5v
Coming to the tree256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBUFcQZAc2j
Where dead man called out256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4VF1dy5vi8
For his love to flee256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBOpyrJlPaf
Strange things did happen here256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLkPFvYPrsp
No stranger would it be256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVAMdzxZrwb
If we met at midnight256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7u3IgsUFSe
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 you256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFwBm6WmkTx
Coming to the tree256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOHE97bgiBD
They strung up a man256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNQnvFFaApW
They say who murdered three256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbatA9xAOqi
Strange things did happen here256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJDpZ82mxwP
No stranger would it be256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyGakIRAIUm
If we met at midnight256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5fT1FpZI0W
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 you256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvda2WErFer
Coming to the tree256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1TWmOfpgVb
Wear a necklace of hope256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH8UPI4XLgG
Side by side with me256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRP3DLOPm5M
Strange things did happen here256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0jVV2pu95l
No stranger would it be256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFxwwYMCFKg
If we met at midnight256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3jhsHjKWMp
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 you256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEb83V85G7O
Coming to the tree256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1ZBHgpXE9R
Where they strung up a man256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi6lGkG4jrm
They say who murdered three256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkidaWOkpBK
Strange things did happen here256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo5tVQTSOR1
No stranger would it be256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwvnNxGCprg
If we met at midnight256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGnsPDrNqLL
In the hanging tree.”
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhn8utDoQsQ
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH8C2SOiMW6
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZXZAK6mlxI
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIbtvqA4rby
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwi4aqOKyJy
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0hhXpeJ4Me
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo3EW1vJgkf
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ25Aanqxz84
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8tu8xEqNgQ
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbAkHymRDNu
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2A2NB4yr8k
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvYVyPql7lS
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdFQQpP2ewj
256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeV6Kg1J2f9
