What makes it stranger still is its apparent absence from the historical record: no edition of the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps, the standard benchmark for locating ecclesiastical remains across Ireland, shows it at all. The building's age is unknown, its dedication unrecorded, and its very existence seems to have slipped through the documentary net entirely.

What survives is a rectangular footprint, roughly ten metres east to west and six metres north to south, defined by sod-covered wall footings that barely break the surface on the outer face. The interior is slightly sunken, a common feature in long-abandoned structures where the floor has settled or been dug into over centuries. Towards the western end of the north wall there is a gap of about two metres, possibly an original entrance, though large stone blocks protruding at the north-west angle may have shifted from their original positions. Along the east and south sides, a raised berm, a low earthen shelf running against the outer wall faces, survives to nearly a metre in height at the east end. A children's burial ground is associated with the site; such grounds, known in Irish tradition as cillíní, were used for the interment of unbaptised infants and others excluded from consecrated ground, and they cluster frequently around early ecclesiastical sites. The church's most significant find came in the early 1900s, when an ogham stone was recovered here. Ogham is an early medieval script, typically carved along the edges of standing stones, and this example was transferred to the National Museum in Dublin. The quarry that now presses within two metres of the north wall was not there when the stone was found, and its continued encroachment has reduced whatever buffer once existed around the remains.