That gap between the name and the memory is, in its quiet way, the most interesting thing about it. The site measures approximately 17 metres north to south and just under 15 metres east to west, its boundary marked by a scatter of stones most pronounced along the eastern side, with a slight scarp, a low step in the ground surface, helping to define the northwestern edge. The interior is uneven, with small stones pushing up through the soil. It does not appear on the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps of 1842 or 1904, which means it had already slipped beneath the threshold of official cartographic notice long before anyone thought to record it formally.

When a field memoranda was compiled in 1933, the enclosure was described in much the same terms as it appears today, and the local name was already in use, yet even then there was no living tradition of burial on the site. The name implies memory of something ecclesiastical or funerary, but the memory had become detached from any specific knowledge of what that something was. This is not unusual in the Irish landscape, where place names and folk designations often preserve the ghost of a function long after the function itself has been forgotten. What lends the site additional weight is its proximity to two other features roughly 120 metres to the west: a possible church site and a possible hospital, the latter being a term that in medieval Irish contexts typically refers to a religious house offering hospitality or care rather than a modern medical institution. The three features together suggest that this corner of Knockaclarig may once have formed part of a small ecclesiastical complex, though the precise relationship between them remains unclear.