Maria Rutkowska Kurcjuszowa arrived in Ravensbrück in the Radom transport in June 1942. She started working as a prisoner in Neubrandenburg in a factory commando in July 1943. In 1944 Maria worked in Waldbau – an underground factory, a branch of Neubrandenburg. In 1947, she published her poems titled Unsent Letters from Ravensbrück (1941-1945), London, Polish Book Library.
At dawn With the brutal scream of sirens, The day awakens. In the depths of the camp, Shrouded in darkness And wrapped in the dawn, Lies a shadow. Like the last trace of life In a dying man, Like a blood pulse, The movement among the barracks Gushes with the river of murmurs, And through a gaze of the lights, Under the windows' eyes Into the fogs, it glides. Now again, under the guard of walls and dogs, In the embrace of barbed wires Over which the current of death flows, The City of Slaves awakens in mundane Surroundings, hiding us from the world. Silent during the sleep of night, The machine vibrates again. Like animals driven out Into the arena, the crowd starts to flow From the barracks' doorposts Into a day to be devoured. And to the rhythm of bare feet march, The crowd of spectres glides along, Without a murmur from the foggy streets' throat, Thousands of stolen women ghosts walk, Led by their captors, those hunters And looters all over the globe. We are moving forward, a compact mass, Dark in dense darkness. Heads bowed in front of me and behind me. Do you want, sister, to rock the night and dreams? To no avail! Steadily steps, you go faintly; The depth of your eyes is cold and empty. Are you Polish, or do you have a different shield, Sister? Please give me your hand! And so strengthened with a weave, As a sign that my step is also yours, We will go sad slaves, through the streets Of the longings, towards the road from where We will see the sunshine ray. Ravensbrück, August 1942