This is all that outwardly announces what was once a church and its associated graveyard. By 1838, when the Ordnance Survey mapped the area, it was already reduced to a "Site of Church, Graveyard", a designation that speaks to centuries of gradual erasure rather than any single catastrophic event.

The physical remains are sparse but not entirely gone. Two fragments of the church building survive: a granite sill, possibly from a window, and part of a bevelled window arch. The graveyard enclosure measures roughly 45 metres by 25 metres, but its surfaces offer little to the eye beyond the disturbed ground itself. One exception is a bullaun stone, a naturally or artificially hollowed boulder used in early medieval Irish religious sites, sometimes for grinding, sometimes associated with ritual or healing practices. This example measures approximately 0.4 metres across and 0.35 metres deep, a modest but genuine early feature in an otherwise stripped landscape. The OS Letters of 1928, compiled by O'Flanagan, mentioned a graveslab somewhere on the site, but no trace of it has since been found. The landowner has reported the presence of several additional bullauns, though none were confirmed during survey work, leaving that claim intriguing but unverified.

The site holds a preservation order under the National Monuments Acts, which gives it legal protection despite its dilapidated state. What makes Kilmacoo quietly arresting is precisely this tension between official recognition and physical attrition: a place formally protected, yet visibly losing its material presence to time, vegetation, and the slow encroachment of the surrounding farmland.