The Man Of Snow

The Man of Snow
Yes
Man, human, humanity


He lay
Stretched hand stretched long
Over a field of snow
In ancient Patagonia.

And
Though he moved not
Out and in
He breathed.

And
In that vastness of the wild
He cared not
Nor had the appetite
For any thing.

Ah! that we
We humans be
Be as the Man of Snow
Stretched
Stretched hand stretched long
Over a field of snow
In ancient Patagonia.

by Emmanuel George Cefai

Comments (2)

A great poem and likes.
This strikes me as a poem about pure being, someone (if such a personal pronoun is even relevant) who has no physical needs, because he has transcended physicality itself and exists without sensory apparatus. He is the fact of existence but has no existential identity or fate. He is thus representative of humanity perhaps the way a statue can be. He both is and is not in the same breath.