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 you278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ54anq3mhfi
Coming to the tree278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR43EgJYitk
Where dead man called out278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIkmYSDTSez
For his love to flee278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe9gDsbfUKS
Strange things did happen here278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5fwtxeIIUa
No stranger would it be278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyPtDRSQnMv
If we met at midnight278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6XTdAZICb9
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 you278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTpban8HUee
Coming to the tree278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1km3lliLnU
Where dead man called out278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4c5HRqcmUy
For his love to flee278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL7wAx7hRBK
Strange things did happen here278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyBB1HXTePx
No stranger would it be278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeajkpdlSNF
If we met at midnight278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIB8dLkY084
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 you278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1IYiOfiniV
Coming to the tree278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLql8vhfpRV
They strung up a man278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZcYkKFDyRq
They say who murdered three278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTbLwZ9G0a4
Strange things did happen here278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYm413g61yV
No stranger would it be278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoPXyJ2aBWK
If we met at midnight278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE4Y3ajaTO2
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 you278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4FzgqXBKJ5
Coming to the tree278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5s82AJrvNc
Wear a necklace of hope278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCcFMthkIHD
Side by side with me278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuzZ6z4X9v1
Strange things did happen here278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ3TmCeEvyV
No stranger would it be278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfESXzLyCQc
If we met at midnight278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRSXS0sKYao
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 you278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOIH2cjOjjJ
Coming to the tree278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS7LwD8mo15
Where they strung up a man278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe8XbohYM8Y
They say who murdered three278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1pRZ8c5bd9
Strange things did happen here278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ7TPrfSKX8
No stranger would it be278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdLwmPYJdfM
If we met at midnight278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡknaU6qlRZ3
In the hanging tree.”
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTmc7vSjcNt
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd66EojTfU6
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp70wLoyd77
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOx5gLr7oz0
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFh6QNQhx4o
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcTYVkYUMrB
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaXE4PJjfHD
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH2yEFGZjg9
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLsjZ7N7g9V
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw1MJqpa21T
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCzEzgwBInf
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbP1xPCVqL3
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuCCQesOkVT
278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIE6KGXsNoV
