Children's burial ground, Pollbaun, Co. Mayo
Co. Mayo |
Burial Grounds
A low mound in a Mayo pasture, half-swallowed by nettles and a tangle of hawthorn and blackthorn, holds a particular kind of quiet weight.
This is a cillín, one of the unconsecrated burial grounds found across rural Ireland where unbaptised infants, and sometimes others excluded from churchyard burial, were interred for centuries. The practice was born of Catholic theological teaching on original sin and the liminal state of souls who died before baptism; without the sacrament, children could not be buried in consecrated ground, and so families found other places, often ancient earthworks, ringfort ditches, coastal margins, or liminal spots at field edges. This one sits on a gentle rise in undulating pastureland near Pollbaun, unremarkable to a passing eye.
The site has shifted shape, at least on paper, across the decades that cartographers recorded it. The Ordnance Survey's six-inch map of 1838 shows a small circular enclosure here, measuring roughly twelve to fifteen metres across. By the 1915 edition, the outline had become a square, traced in a dashed line, and the name given plainly as Children's Burial Ground. On the ground today, what survives is a low, roughly subrectangular stony platform, around ten metres from northwest to southeast and nine to nine and a half metres across. Its top is relatively flat, and the sides drop away in a dilapidated stony scarp, between half a metre and just under a metre high, best preserved along the southwest face. The original perimeter may have been kerbed or walled; what remains is a rough edging of large stones and boulders, reduced by time and possibly by generations of farmers clearing the surrounding fields and depositing loose stone here.
Small stones protrude from the surface of the platform, and some may once have served as grave markers, though no legible pattern survives among them. Whether they were placed with intention or simply accumulated as field clearance material is no longer clear. The long grass, nettles, and scrub that cover the mound make any reading of the surface difficult, and the site carries the particular ambiguity of places where deliberate human action and slow agricultural pragmatism have worked on the same ground across many generations.