He swore the oath in a courthouse with a hundred others in the row,
He had waited eleven years for that specific show,
Of the judge and the flag and the words that meant the door was finally clear,
And he was standing on the other side of the frontier.
The immigrant who swore the oath and meant every word,
The immigrant who swore to something others had not heard,
Because they were born into it and could take the thing for free,
The immigrant who swore knows what the swearing costs to be.
He called his mother on the telephone that afternoon,
She wept across the distance of the ocean and the moon,
Between their countries, he described the courthouse and the judge,
He described the oath he took and would not budge.
He tells his children that the citizenship is not a gift,
It is a promise that he chose and it provides the lift,
Of the chosen thing above the thing you simply fell into by birth,
He chose this country and the choice has been his greatest worth.