No wall surrounds it, no gate marks an entrance, and no inscribed stone announces who lies beneath. What identifies it as a burial place at all is a scattering of small, undressed stones set into the earth, oriented east to west and arranged in parallel rows running north to south. It is a cillín, the Irish term for an informal burial ground used, most commonly, for unbaptised infants who, under Catholic ecclesiastical tradition, could not be interred in consecrated ground. These places exist in their hundreds across the Irish countryside, often unmarked on maps, known mainly to local families and passed down in memory rather than record.

The site at Lisheennageeha sits in low-lying, gently undulating land. Its shape is loosely subrectangular, measuring roughly 9.6 metres east-southeast to west-northwest and 5.8 metres north-northeast to south-southwest, which gives a sense of just how small it is: a space that could be crossed in a few paces. The plain, unworked stones used to mark individual burials were never meant to be legible in the way a churchyard headstone is. They record presence without offering identity, which is itself part of the history of these places. The children interred in cillíní were often those whose deaths carried grief compounded by exclusion, and the sites themselves occupied an ambiguous space in local religious and social life, neither fully sacred nor simply profane.

The site is unenclosed, meaning there is nothing to signal its boundaries from a distance. Anyone approaching across the surrounding fields would need to know what to look for, and to look closely once there.