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 you289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ54OD8wndrg
Coming to the tree289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTosgPI2bVN
Where dead man called out289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhh8EbbzEnX
For his love to flee289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkVePIqMWBc
Strange things did happen here289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ53UCKqKVYO
No stranger would it be289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiUFKq7Is7w
If we met at midnight289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8DVJUCSTg0
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 you289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfdYHcppsLO
Coming to the tree289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ53xGkWJdnG
Where dead man called out289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhE4a1to17N
For his love to flee289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXD09gwP42I
Strange things did happen here289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ14OOr81jGb
No stranger would it be289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnP9QFWdeHV
If we met at midnight289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVHZVOkxCXD
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 you289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxHG2sy3udI
Coming to the tree289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuK0MNjrN2s
They strung up a man289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKhCZbmQrQr
They say who murdered three289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbLtd6QFLaT
Strange things did happen here289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpkl4Q0R3pv
No stranger would it be289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvknsp8XAVX
If we met at midnight289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg52cxxJqV7
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 you289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGNcJwXAlCS
Coming to the tree289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡssUqDm4Hpe
Wear a necklace of hope289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7JWK82Qys7
Side by side with me289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfn1d8tYGa2
Strange things did happen here289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3D8WpQVcHE
No stranger would it be289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlIyLVvUxcQ
If we met at midnight289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2wHkoH4U6c
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 you289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7jkyIDr5VM
Coming to the tree289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbTZzFNI08X
Where they strung up a man289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmqmvU01RIU
They say who murdered three289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEyYKyTu9eG
Strange things did happen here289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVra9zFNuUA
No stranger would it be289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyXuerFCQFb
If we met at midnight289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq0njqRtizG
In the hanging tree.”
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrhREfEJnfP
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRz3S7vPA9A
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwl9okBst0O
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLOKsXRhULY
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv4mVvLHCUD
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM7C745EOTE
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfWLCjplOnz
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKPUifXBzuW
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrftgpCSREY
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsacCi0WJkW
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtLqQb71Zwr
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMuF3tz9Poh
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXUnzYyHyz4
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwRG9k7Jx5R
