FREE VERSE PANEGYRIC: AJAKAYE STRIDA, CASTLES OF BEAUTY_ BY BISHOP PETERSON

Morning breaks on high hills.  

Stone castles stand where kings have died.  

They do not hold the light she holds.  

Her throne is not gold or carved wood.  

She rules from inside people’s chests.  

The wind stops when she walks past.  

Ajakaye Strida, Africa says your name.

Her beauty is not hung on walls.  

It cannot be stolen like jewelry.  

Watch her bend to hear a child.  

Watch her break bread for strangers.  

She runs to trouble, not from it.  

She answers when the market cries.  

This is the castle she builds each day.

Her eyes are rivers after rain.  

Calm on top. Power underneath.  

Tired men find rest in her gaze.  

Broken women stand up again.  

She walks without drums or noise.  

Strength moves with her. Pride does not.  

She wears duty like a work cloth.

Focus burns on her forehead.  

Storms strike. She does not bend.  

She keeps her word to the people.  

Others plan feasts. She plans schools.  

She counts the sick and sends drugs.  

Birth did not crown her. Work did.  

She earned her name by not sleeping.

Old castles lie in dust now.  

They were built on greed and lies.  

Hers stands because she serves.  

She sends help from north to coast.  

She knows every village by name.  

She lifts the widow with no sons.  

Her base is the people she carries.

Her voice cuts like wind in trees.  

It does not break. It shapes.  

She learned wisdom from grandmothers.  

Guns go down when she speaks.  

War chiefs leave with plans for water.  

She does not shout. Her words stay.  

Peace walks the road her voice makes.

She is beautiful like dawn farms.  

Dew on cassava shines on her skin.  

She binds tribes like mothers bind cloth.  

She plants seed where fire burned.  

Children read under roofs she built.  

She never forced the name “queen.”  

The people gave it. She stands firm.

Let these castles of beauty last.  

They are not made of block or stone.  

Each good act is a brick she sets.  

Ajakaye Strida, you are the gift.  

Men did not lift you. You rose.  

You lead because your life leads.  

Africa moves where your feet step.

@BISHOP SAHR ISAAC PETERSON 

Beauty of African Poetry (BoAP)

- Sierra Leone, West Africa.

The poem celebrates Ajakaye Strida as a leader whose true beauty lies in her service, strength, and impact on her people rather than physical appearance. It presents her as a symbol of selfless leadership, building “castles” through acts of care, sacrifice, and community development. Ultimately, it portrays her as a unifying force whose influence brings peace, growth, and dignity across Africa.