I was known for my long, beautiful, brown hair

Cascading down in waves down to my waist.

But it all changed the day they came

And took it all away from me.

They shaved my hair,

I looked at the dull, lifeless part of me on the floor,

and I died.

I was a corpse, following their every demand

While listening to their mockery.

Every day was the same;

Work, work and more work.

But then I saw it,

The part of me that had disappeared,

A strand of hair, not stripped of its lively copper color,

And I came back to life again.

It gave me hope that something so thin and fragile

Had not lost its life despite the harsh conditions.

As time passed, it only got harder

We got more work and less food.

But when I returned to my sleeping quarters,

Tired more than I could say,

Seeing the single strand of long copper hair

My disheartened spirits were quickly lifted

And I encouraged myself to endure,

Believing that good times would come.

As time passed, people around me,

starved and overworked,

were given a special privilege: showers.

But when my companions never returned,

I knew I did not want the special privilege

And worked even harder.

I worked hard to meet their expectations

With one thought in my mind:

I will be free one day.

And it happened.

One day I heard yelling and gunshots.

I looked up from scraping the pot,

Saw dead bodies on the ground

And a soldier walking toward me.

But it wasn’t them;

It was a British regiment.

The British officer took me kindly by the arm

And led me outside the wire fence

Where I once thought I would never be able to go.

He gave me food, clothing and a blanket

For my journey home.

But in my mind I knew

The strand of hope that kept me alive was all I needed.