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 you318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOK2g96zqK5
Coming to the tree318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz8vGxPAduG
Where dead man called out318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡruqcwuxMrV
For his love to flee318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcb5zDPoEQy
Strange things did happen here318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg7rcdc9Ilf
No stranger would it be318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdaEyMMDvWA
If we met at midnight318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0vyWPEu5oQ
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 you318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7n2PvS3B4o
Coming to the tree318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7yvcHusTcp
Where dead man called out318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVyJQrOTuEr
For his love to flee318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoj5AYDVC8w
Strange things did happen here318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG2ht20voRv
No stranger would it be318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡokH5owcXA6
If we met at midnight318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfruyihsXBZ
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 you318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUKiBBE1zIZ
Coming to the tree318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzk96ctpEa4
They strung up a man318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdeVRCLfL9I
They say who murdered three318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj8NJGH3edx
Strange things did happen here318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqdQmt8SnRr
No stranger would it be318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQwnel8RXNq
If we met at midnight318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpUJRySWmpY
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 you318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG75fKbPIeS
Coming to the tree318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFdgiIaxfCp
Wear a necklace of hope318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs8PdlvbTjZ
Side by side with me318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqWNJAE8yrl
Strange things did happen here318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBTHFjrNBvS
No stranger would it be318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUO5mD9SyhJ
If we met at midnight318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcslzbEYK7l
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 you318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZlPCXPfPKg
Coming to the tree318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQZe3DBMCXQ
Where they strung up a man318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYiym6dj61L
They say who murdered three318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDdCXtADGpC
Strange things did happen here318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcnNljN72Dp
No stranger would it be318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtKd6OnVsAc
If we met at midnight318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡutWHDMR5Vz
In the hanging tree.”
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqxROFhS7hq
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqz9OB0jC2Z
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK6LtOsofxh
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmgemujy4Zp
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoP528V1IBV
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAwohCw0Y5h
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLcZV2d1sLX
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVgLjuuDOCt
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw4rSMllg8I
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvQ6phLQp5y
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs1I92T3F1N
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOnn2QCxbpc
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI9hr55AMAi
318Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVKUuN1XOmO
