Font in Killoughternane

Killoughternane still keeps its granite font outside the church, a shallow rectangular basin waiting for water and memory. It is not grand, but it is exact: seventy-five centimetres long, sixty-two wide and twenty-five deep, with a central outlet for what must be released. Perhaps infants were brought there in rain, or women washed hands before entering, or men stood nearby pretending not to watch. The stone does not explain itself. It only repeats the shape of care, breaking the edge of fear into something small enough to carry.