Unveiling the Heartache Behind “Blue, Blue Christmas” – Roy Pullam’s Poignant Poem That Will Stir Your Soul
Christmas—a season usually draped in glitter and good cheer—here unfolds like a fractured mirror, reflecting gaps no tinsel can mask. Have you ever pondered how pain and festivity could hitch a ride in the same sleigh? This piece doesn’t just gift you a glimpse into a childhood marked by absence and silent lies but asks—what really lingers beneath the polished surface of holiday joy? The jagged edges of a tree, the hush around the unwrapped gifts, and the unbearable pressure to conjure happiness where there is none—it’s all stitched together with the rawness of truth we so often hide. It’s that gnawing, self-hatred of needing to pretend, a universal ache that resonates far beyond Yuletide. If you’ve ever felt the sting behind the sparkle, this poem’s haunting whisper will stay with you long after the season’s passed.
Christmas and heartbreak
Came in the
Same misery package
Our Christmas tree
Fresh from the spoil banks
Of the pit
Great gaps
Reminding us all
That like the tree
Much was missing
From the season
I heard the exciting talk
Of classmates
Dwellers
On the Sears catalogue
Dog-eared reminders
That jarred Santa’s attention
I knew
Santa had stopped
At each house
But mine
On the block
That on the 26th
New bikes
Would ride my street
Gene Autry cowboy suits
And cap guns
Made my friends
Gene’s posse
And I
Would have nothing
Nothing again
But the misery
That dogged
My parents
But the worst
Was yet to come
The first day
Of school
With the teacher
Spending the morning
Grilling each student
Each recounting
The joys
Under the tree
And I would lie
With everyone
Knowing the truth
And I would hate myself
For the lie
I felt
I had to tell
