On top of it sits a roughly D-shaped graveyard, about thirty metres east to west and forty metres north to south, enclosed by a stone wall. It is the shape of the enclosure that first catches the attention: that distinctive curved outline is often a sign of early medieval origin, a form inherited from the circular or oval boundaries that Irish monastic and ecclesiastical sites favoured long before the Norman grid made itself felt in the landscape.

At the centre of the enclosure lie the fragmentary remains of the parish church of Kilcolman, a ruin now reduced to scattered stonework. Around it, the burial ground tells two rather different stories in stone. To the south of the church, inscribed headstones from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries mark individual graves in the conventional way. But much of the graveyard is given over to rows of low, uninscribed gravemarkers, plain fieldstones set into the ground with no name, no date, no indication of who lies beneath. Such unmarked stones are common in older Irish graveyards, used for burials where the cost of a carved headstone was beyond reach, or simply where the custom of inscription had not yet taken hold. The last recorded burials here took place in the 1930s, after which the ground fell out of use and the surrounding fields returned to tillage.