Everything else is gone. The church was a modest rectangular structure, measuring roughly 9.8 metres east to west and 7.6 metres north to south, and what survives gives only the faintest outline of what it once was. High in the west gable, a small square window hints at a loft, a raised internal gallery sometimes used to separate clergy from congregation, or to house a bell.

The site carries layers that go back further than the medieval stonework suggests. Nineteenth-century Ordnance Survey correspondence noted that the church most likely replaced an earlier building on the same ground, a pattern common in Irish ecclesiastical sites where sacred locations were reused across centuries. Writing in 1912, a scholar named Holt observed both a scattering of large stone blocks across the adjoining graveyard and traces of what appeared to be older foundations close to the west gable, lending weight to that interpretation. Lying on the ground near the north wall is a seventeenth-century memorial stone, a single datable object that places at least one moment of continued use or commemoration well after the church itself had fallen into disrepair.

The graveyard associated with the church survives alongside the ruins, and the site as a whole rewards unhurried attention. The scattered large blocks that Holt recorded are worth looking for among the grass, as is the memorial stone near the north wall, which lies flat rather than upright and can easily be overlooked.