No mound, no scatter of stones, no depression in the earth signals where it once was. The only record of its location is a mark on the first edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map, the great mid-nineteenth-century survey that captured Ireland's landscape before so much of it was altered or lost. Since then, whatever surface features once defined the site have vanished entirely.

The burial ground sits within an enclosure, a term that in Irish archaeological contexts usually refers to a defined area bounded by an earthen bank, wall, or ditch, often of early medieval origin. Such enclosures were frequently repurposed across the centuries, and children's burial grounds, known in Irish as cillíní, were commonly established within or beside them. Cillíní were informal burial places used for unbaptised infants, who under Catholic teaching were excluded from consecrated ground. They are found in their thousands across Ireland, often at liminal locations: old enclosures, ringforts, coastal margins, townland boundaries. The one at Glenrevagh leaves almost no trace of itself now, making it an unusually complete example of how thoroughly such places could be forgotten once their communities stopped using them.

There is nothing for a visitor to see here in the conventional sense. The site carries no visible surface trace, and its exact position within the enclosure is unverifiable on the ground. Its significance lies less in what survives than in what the absence itself suggests: a community's quiet accommodation of grief, now so thoroughly absorbed into the landscape that only a cartographic footnote remains.