Whatever inscription it may once have borne has entirely vanished, leaving a plain rectangular sheet of mica-schist, a metamorphic rock with a faintly silvery, layered quality, measuring roughly two metres in length and just under three-quarters of a metre wide. What makes it quietly arresting is not what it says but what surrounds it: a low kerb of the same material, set around the perimeter of the grave to define its boundary, a detail that speaks to a deliberate and considered funerary practice rather than simple interment.

The slab was recorded by Patrick Healy in a survey of ancient monuments at Glendalough carried out in 1972 for the Office of Public Works. Healy noted that this stone, catalogued as number 213 in his survey, is accompanied at its head by a second slab, number 212, and that Reefert Church holds other graves with the remains of similarly kerbed surrounds. The kerbing itself, modest in scale at around eight centimetres thick, is easy to overlook, but it points to a wider local tradition of marking and containing burials in a structured way. Reefert, whose name is thought to derive from the Irish for a burial place of kings or chieftains, was a significant ecclesiastical site within the broader monastic complex of Glendalough, and the care evident in even an uninscribed grave like this one reflects the status the site once held.