There is nothing to see. No stone courses breaking the surface, no hollow in the earth suggesting a collapsed wall, no scatter of worked masonry. The south-west corner of a rectangular field holds the memory of these things, but the marsh itself holds everything else.

What survives is local tradition, which is not nothing. Across Ireland, oral memory of vanished ecclesiastical sites has often proved more durable than the physical fabric itself, and in low-lying or waterlogged ground, early medieval structures, typically built from timber or poorly mortared stone, can disappear entirely beneath accumulating peat and sediment. The site at Clooncunnig fits that pattern. No date, no dedication, and no founding figure are recorded, so the church's origins remain opaque. What can be said is that a community once considered this corner of a field significant enough to bury their dead in, and that the knowledge of that fact passed from person to person long after any visible trace had gone.