The stones are modest, undressed, and only roughly rectangular, rising no more than about thirty to forty centimetres above the earth. They face east, as is customary in Christian burial practice, and they are arranged in orderly north-to-south rows, spaced roughly a metre apart across a plot that widens from around eight metres at its north-eastern end to about sixteen metres at the south-western end. There is no kerbing, no ornamental masonry, nothing to signal that this was ever considered a place apart from the surrounding ground.

The graveyard occupies the north-eastern quarter of what appears to be an early ecclesiastical enclosure, the kind of roughly circular or curvilinear boundary that in Ireland often marks a monastic or early Christian site. Immediately to the north and east of the burials stands the remains of a possible church. Together, the enclosure, the church, and the burial ground form a cluster that is characteristic of early medieval religious settlement in the west of Ireland, where small island communities established places of worship and interment that were sometimes used continuously for centuries. What makes the Inis Mhic An Trír site quietly arresting is the persistence of that use: according to local knowledge recorded in 1984, burials were still taking place here into the 1960s. The unadorned flagstones, then, are not simply ancient remains but may mark graves within living memory, their plainness a matter of tradition as much as antiquity.