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 you320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡanr11e8Xoc
Coming to the tree320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5ZIJglckFM
Where dead man called out320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPz0tPBmwpK
For his love to flee320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR3FIBepAUC
Strange things did happen here320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1YmqQA5qWh
No stranger would it be320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQILyut3OW2
If we met at midnight320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo0qQE5OCbg
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 you320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Cjgqdufg5
Coming to the tree320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ9ZotBmhfU
Where dead man called out320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm8fnkOEPPG
For his love to flee320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz8seXhLDJK
Strange things did happen here320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAyNeUZpOqC
No stranger would it be320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqFPCq2REeU
If we met at midnight320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtJd0TxSQdJ
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 you320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ8CMB2CfP1
Coming to the tree320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHVyEEfyxG0
They strung up a man320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJvqF5USvc2
They say who murdered three320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbKxde8sS9W
Strange things did happen here320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqAsRBBV4M0
No stranger would it be320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL59NUwC1DB
If we met at midnight320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbOMMFXrL4m
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 you320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHul8IR78Jo
Coming to the tree320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6T9C5C7SiE
Wear a necklace of hope320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡttbeQNo2Qz
Side by side with me320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2PjTFpA6Pe
Strange things did happen here320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJi5EJXjUA0
No stranger would it be320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4W7kRnkIdg
If we met at midnight320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1HCd8qdB1p
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 you320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVeYgm96NsR
Coming to the tree320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsC5PU3f1ha
Where they strung up a man320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVc2dTLogRq
They say who murdered three320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy0WTXiYg53
Strange things did happen here320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMoAHwKhLNg
No stranger would it be320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMv4Lg83hBG
If we met at midnight320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz7n18M3WIC
In the hanging tree.”
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUXe4qZq78I
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7ouCy1rIST
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMrsu7wq4S5
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIMa9UTMZbj
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvnyY1XmTNv
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ51GjVgoH6F
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY21wfvUnUh
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3k15oBZ2Fc
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjJJAeNKmDj
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdw85EWtQkU
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsK8Wshpqfg
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdCwo2pjX85
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡapOBZIsdg7
320Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa2wGR6Jw78
