Stars stud the Colombian streets,
Not to mark celebrity whereabouts,
Not to mark the places where dignitaries stood,
Not for fame or fortune.
The stars lie dully on concrete canals,
No luminous twinkle illuminate long nights,
Nights so warm but with deathly chills,
Nights as dark as the stars on the streets.
Four-pointed stars dot the streets,
Black stylized crosses mourn murderous deaths,
Gilded with mutely glittering gold,
Marking many an abridged young life.
They show through headlights without dazzle,
In the stormiest of nights they weep,
Through their four-pointed veils
They wail out the words, this person died here.
Stars in the sky pompously twinkle,
Glowing over the city as signs of life and popularity,
But the stars on the street are fallen stars,
The stars all die once their people die on the pavement.
Through the headlights of those willing
To merrily drink the alcoholic chalices of vices,
They warn the drivers with their four mournful, sad points
Beseeching them for attention and vigilance.
Before claiming the vices of libations,
Remember the mournful stars on the streets,
Ride with the driver free of alcoholic vices
So that anyone will not be painted in black and gilded in gold.
Author's note: "In Colombia, black stars mark the locations of fatal accidents on the road. In this poem, however, they convey an anti-drunk driving message."