The Heart Is Not An Indian Giver

By June Hogue

I gave my heart to you, beloved One
Oh, so long ago…
And then I tried to take it back
And thought that I could deem it so.

But I learned, as time went by,
That the heart is not an Indian Giver
And only the heart knows the destiny
Of the love it must deliver.

The recognition came slowly but clearly
Like the dawn of a new day
And I could only hope that the many tears I shed
Would somehow wash the guilt away.

I had denied the truth
And told my heart a lie,
Hurt you, oh so deeply, and made a choice
That will haunt me till I die.

I let you go for reasons I can't quite explain
I thought I had wearied and perhaps needed change!
You were so deeply hurt and then you left…
As I explored freedom's open range.

In time I learned that freedom was indeed open range
And I missed the touch of your soft caresses,
The strength I felt in your arms,
And most of all, the tenderness of your kisses.

Slowly, you wandered through my dreams reminding me
Of the loneliness that your absence brought about.
My mind was ever filled with the hollow echoes
Of all the dreams we'd so carefully laid out.

Now the years have passed
And I am getting frail and old
I know not where you are
Yet I must speak… if I may be so bold

For I vowed if ever I found you
I would explain something that is very true
That my heart is not an Indian Giver
For it has always belonged to you.

I wish you every happiness, I wish you love and joy,
Prosperity and peace beyond measure--
For my heart was not an Indian Giver…
And until death you'll remain its secret treasure.

©June H. Hogue
(for a friend who broke an engagement years ago and never forgave herself for breaking it. She loved the poem and has thanked me a million times for writing it for her.)