Even when the Bronco Apache vanished into the Sierra Madre, they carried something the armies couldn’t track — medicine. Peyote wasn’t a drug or escape; it was prayer in plant form, a compass for those who had no home but the stars. Through war, hunger, and exile, ceremony became memory, and memory became survival. Today, the same medicine still moves quietly among our people — reminding us that healing is resistance, and vision is the oldest weapon we have.