The Plague
Clarity in the Crawl
It wasn’t the soft betrayal of a trying
afternoon that changed me,
but the crawl.
The slick, unholy hush
of frogs in my thoughts.
Plaguing my head.
I was sick,
not metaphor-sick, not soul-searching sick
but body-decaying—
flesh in revolt, spirit in exile.
Each fiber sang a different hymn of ache,
and still, they came.
Frogs in the sink.
Frogs in my bed.
Frogs in the seams of my walls.
Their croaks pulsed.
Their eyes, knowing.
Their silence, scripture.
I prayed
half out of habit, half out of fear.
Said something desperate
into the bath steam and mildew
behind the bubbled paint
and they answered—not with healing,
but with vision.
Clarity doesn’t arrive
in clean white rooms.
It slithers in disguise of amphibians.
It hops over your shame.
It sits on your chest
until you name what you were really dying of.
And I saw. Saw all of it.
All the vain glory I once called joy.
Saw myself spitting out frogs
like truths I had swallowed.
Now I walk different.
Not cured, but somewhat morphed and
awake.
The plague didn’t leave til I learned
to sit with my frogs.
About the Creator
Natasha Collazo
Selected Writer in Residency, Champagne France ---2026
The Diary of an emo Latina OUT NOW
https://a.co/d/0jYT7RR
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Poetry Workshop
Previously, I published my first ever exclusive story on Vocal. If you’ve subscribed to my work, then you have access to it. Thank YOU for your support. I hope to make each read worth your while. So with that, I’ll be posting insights for exclusive readers only, such as a workshop on my craft. The hows and who’s of my stories. Pretty much revealing my secrets on how I write with you. So welcome fam, and let’s get started!
By Natasha CollazoExclusive • about a year ago
Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin5 days ago in Humor
Comments (12)
Oh so evocative and deeply visited. Lovely poetry...congrats.
Vivid imagery & illustration! I agree with Raymond!
Learning to sit with your frogs. Lots to think about here, too. Nicely done, Natasha. And congratulation on Top Story!
Wow, that was certainly a roller-coaster ride. I will not be able to think of a frog in the throat in the same way ever again. Congratulations on your TS which is certainly one of the best deserved I have seen for a long time
This is one of the most hard-hitting poems I’ve ever read on here. The way you describe the unpleasantness and repulsion that comes before acceptance of our own “frogs” is so immensely fitting and viscerally jarring. So, so clever and well done!
Back to say congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
congratulation on TS. the frogs, to me is a more interesting way of looking at what plagues us. For me, it was knowing there was a ghost in a room waiting for me to enter. I'd hear three loud knocks and was always too afraid to walk through the door. Until the night, the fog pushed me through and instead of a dark room, there was a bright ray of light. I had that dream every night for years until I walked into that ray of light. Weird, huh? I faced my demons and "woke" up.
AHH the croaking frogs is such an excellent idea and executed so well throughout this poem. SO creative.
Ah, a biblical plague reflected in the mind... Good work! And have you read Albert Camus' novel of the same name?
Oh this is incredible. I loved the language of this poem. The repetition of the frogs and the way in which you end the poem with this moment of closure and of realisation. Wonderful uses of language :)
I found this relatable because the plague lifted for me when I embraced my depression. Loved your poem!
This description of the frogs is intense. It made me think about how facing our inner turmoil can lead to real change, like you experienced.